Page 118 of The Tryst

A laugh bursts from inside me. “No!” Setting down my fork, I run my finger along the inside of my eye, next to the bridge of my nose. “It can go here. Or your cheekbone. Or any place you want to contour. It’s like the cherry on top of makeup.”

“I like cherries,” he says, a little seductive.

“I know you do,” I say, teasing him back, then I take a drink of my wine and add, “and she also wants to integrate my app into her company. We’re meeting about that next week.”

“Wow. That’s big, Layla,” he says.

“I’m pretty excited.” I cross my fingers then pick up my fork and dig in some more.

“Is that your goal?”

“A big payoff is our goal,” I say.

“Sweetheart, you’re hot,” he says with a sexy rumble, then he adds, “If you ever want to run anything past me, let me know.”

I appreciate that he doesn’t suggest I ask him for advice, though Iwouldask. But he treats me like an equal, offering insight and a sounding board.

“I will,” I say, and I’d be a fool not to use him as a resource. But I’m not going to use him tonight.

Instead, I tell him to stay put while I refill his whiskey, then clean up. When I’m done, I return to him. “Turn around,” I instruct, motioning for him to shift so I can sit behind him on the couch.

“Why?”

“Just do it,” I command.

With a grumble he shifts so his back is to me. Settling in on the cushion, I curl my hands over his shoulders, then I knead his muscles.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans.

“Good?”

“Great,” he rasps out.

I rub his shoulders for several minutes, and the only sounds he makes are sighs and moans.

On a deeper sigh, he says, “I should have told him sooner.”

But we’re both to blame. “I should have as well.”

“I just hope he…talks to me again,” Nick says, worry and fear texturing his voice.

I kiss the back of his head, brushing my lips against his hair. “He will,” I say, confidently.

“You think so?”

“I do,” I say, believing it with my whole heart. “You’re a good father. You raised a good man.”

He grabs my hand, pulls it to his mouth and presses a thank you kiss there.

* * *

In the morning, we eat leftovers in my kitchen. “I, too, love leftovers,” he says, then leaves for work.

40

A DECK OF CARDS

Nick

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