“You mean falling apart, while we dealt with what happened with Nana?”
He hadn’t stopped dealing. Even the name dug a hole inside. “Maybe not that part.”
“I miss it too, but there’s nothing to do for it.”
He didn’t mean to take the conversation down such a somber path. “Next time, you show me yours first, then you get a dick pic.”
“Jonathan.” Her voice held a tone he didn’t recognize.
Best to tread carefully. “Hmm?”
“If we makethisa habit—the sexting I mean—I can’t keep pretending we’rejust friends.”
The phrase echoed in his head with insincerity. Not because of the way she said it, but he didn’t buy it. “Is that what we’re doing? I’m pretty sure neither of us believes that.” He did, at first. When he got back to L.A., he told himself friendship with Bailey was enough. He still got to enjoy her company, and they weren’t pulling any punches when they talked.
Theywere, though. He couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but somewhere over the last two months, he figured out he wanted more. More of her. Of them.
“What do you call it, then?” Bailey asked.
Jonathan sighed. “I didn’t think I’d get a second chance at this, and I’m not going to let it get away this time. I want us to be a couple, and I’m hoping you feel the same.”
“As in, boyfriend and girlfriend? Long distance lovers? Exclusive?” A happy note slid into her words.
“As in.”
“So I have to stop kissing other guys when I go to the clubs?”
He knew she was joking, but he couldn’t ignore the jealousy that rose inside. “I’d prefer it.”
“There haven’t been any other guys since before you were here.”
“I know. But I still like the assurance.”
She laughed. God, he’d missed that sound. “I’d love to be able to call us anus,” she said. “Not just for the dick pics, either.”
“I adore you.” He grinned like an idiot in his empty condo. It felt amazing. “Does this mean you’ll lift the restriction on us calling each other?”
“I don’t know... I don’t want you to get too spoiled.”
“I already am when I talk to you.” Not quite poetic, but he was more of a numbers guy.
“That’s cheesy. But sweet. Call me tomorrow night?”
“I’m looking forward to it.” More than he had been with anything since he got home. “Night, Ale.”
* * * *
“TELL ME MORE ABOUTthe property,” Jonathan said. They were in his office, talking through a proposal he’d looked over.
Aaron was one of their investment partners. Jonathan liked the guy. It was one of the nice things about building the firm the way they did—everyone got along and tended to have similar values and goals. It wouldn’t work otherwise. Aaron had a quirk Jonathan couldn’t seem to correct, though. The guy had a terrible eye for investments. Or rather, he wanted to help everyone, and while he picked projects that looked good on paper, he didn’t have an instinct for those that would run into endless trouble.
One of Aaron’s latest left him with a piece of property in downtown L.A. that he’d rather offload now, to recoup his losses, than have to manage. He was trying to convince Jonathan to take it off his hands. “Huge open floor downstairs. Seventy percent of upstairs is rented. Long-term business tenants. You shouldn’t have any trouble filling the rest.”
“What’s been downstairs?”
Aaron cringed. “It was a gym for one of the companies that’s gone now. Lots of open space.”
“Coffee shop? Café?”