Underwhelming. Wildly so.
But, but…I’ve learned something in the past few years: first kisses are never like they are in the movies. There’s never fireworks and foot lifting and butterflies. It takes a while for two people to get used to each other, to learn what the other one likes.
So I’m giving Brody a chance.
I mean, don’t freak out on me—I’m not going to sleep with him. But I don’t feel like sleeping at all, don’t feel like being alone with my thoughts, so when he suggested coming back to my place and having some coffee…
Why the hell not? Maybe a cup of coffee with a nice guy is precisely what I need to make me forget the time I’m not spending with a not-so-nice guy.
The cab pulls up in front of my building, and I feel a knot in my stomach as I watch Brody pay the cab driver before grabbing the pink donut box I made us stop for.
I resist the urge to snatch the box back. My donuts. For me to share. For me to provoke Andrew with.
Instead they’re in Brody Nash’s hands, and his hands are…well, his fingers are a little stubby, now that I think about it. How did I miss that?
Knock it off, Georgie.
I step out onto the sidewalk, careful not to jer
k back when he puts a supporting hand under my elbow. Instead I smile in thanks, and it feels brittle.
He doesn’t let go as he leads me inside, and even without looking at my phone, even before we’re all the way through the revolving doors, I know what time it is.
I know I’m late.
And then I’m inside the building and it’s confirmed. Andrew Mulroney is already there, elbows resting on the counter, looking uncharacteristically relaxed as he talks with Ramon.
Damn it.
My high heels click against the marble floor, he turns around, and for one heart-stopping moment, I swear there’s gladness on his face.
Only it vanishes altogether when he sees Brody.
Andrew slowly straightens, his eyes going cold and flat.
“Hey, man!” an oblivious Brody says as he pulls Andrew in for a one-sided man-hug thing, made extra awkward because of the donut box. “Adam, right?”
“Andrew.”
“Right! I’m Brody. We met at Georgie’s dinner party last week.”
Andrew’s eyes are ice cold when they flick to me. “Sure. Good to see you again.”
Desperate for something to do, I yank the donut box out of Brody’s grip and shove it awkwardly across the counter at Ramon. “Ramon! How are you?”
Yikes. Is that my voice? It sounds manically chipper, even for me.
Ramon gives me a startled, slightly concerned look, but he never loses his professional smile. “Ms. Watkins. Welcome home.”
“This is Brody,” I say. “He’s my friend.”
All three men give me a look at that, although I suspect none of them believes that Brody’s coming back to my apartment at five A.M. as a friend.
Andrew certainly doesn’t believe it; that’s clear from the stony expression.
I force myself to meet his eyes. “Red shoes, Dorothy!” I say, desperate to get back to our usual place of caustic banter.
He merely inclines his head backward, in the bare minimum of acknowledgment. He doesn’t have his travel mug today, and for some reason it bothers me. I mean, maybe he just wasn’t hungry, but I don’t like when he’s out of his routine.