Page 145 of The Tryst

“Want to grab a drink and drown our work sorrows?”

Well, maybe I’m notthatcheery. But I will be soon. “So much,” I tell him.

I snag my purse from the office and we head out into the early evening of Manhattan, making our way toward Gin Joint. “Have you started looking for a new job around here?”

“Yes. And it irritated the hell out of me. I nearly tossed my sparkly eyeshadow at the wall,” he says.

I squeeze his arm. “Don’t hurt makeup. It’s never makeup’s fault.”

He sighs. “True words. But at least there are martinis.”

“And do not ever harm a martini either,” I tell him.

“Never will I ever.”

When we reach the block with Gin Joint, we make pouty faces at the Mia Jane store, closed for the night. “We’ll miss you, MJ,” I say, then pretend to paw at the glass in exaggerated longing.

“I love you so much I hate you,” Storm says to the window, frowning.

Then we vow to let go of our sadness as we head into the speakeasy. At the bar over drinks, we trade ideas for each other about job hunting.

He lifts his martini and clinks it against my wine. “To new horizons.”

“May we find them together. And may they be as fabulous as the ones we leave behind.”

We down our drinks and stay a little longer, and when Storm leaves to see his guy, my friends join me.

With them, I brainstorm career plans too.

“You’re going to do great,” Harlow says, squeezing my shoulder.

I nod, resolute. “Thanks. I think so too. I’m sad about the Mia Jane job, but I’m strong enough to not let it get me down.”

“There will be other chances,” Ethan seconds.

“Life is all about seizing opportunities,” I say. Then, I catch sight of the man walking through the door of Gin Joint.

My man.

Nick’s not supposed to be home till tomorrow.

But he’s here early, and I’m elated. I jump up as he reaches me, all intense and business-sexy in his crisp shirt and tie, even after a flight.

Actually, he doesn’t look at all like he just stepped off a plane. That’s odd.

“Hi, Harlow. Hi, Ethan. Can I steal Layla for a minute?”

“Sure,” Harlow says, lips quirked in curiosity.

“She’s yours,” Ethan adds.

I’m damn curious what’s gotten into Nick. He clasps my hand, whisks me outside and walks me to the Mia Jane store. There, he moves behind me and curls his hands around my shoulders.

“It’s yours, Layla.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “What did you say?” I whisper.

He presses a kiss on my cheek then spins me around. “I bought it for you.”

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