“Six o’clock?”
I smile. “Six is perfect.”
As soon as I say that, Atlas squeezes his eyes shut for two seconds. “Wait. I can’t tomorrow.Shit.We’re hosting an event; they need me at the restaurant. Sunday?”
“I have Emmy Sunday. I’d rather wait before bringing her around you.”
“I get that,” Atlas says. “Next Saturday?”
“That’ll give me time to line up someone to watch her.”
Atlas grins. “It’s a date, then.” He stands up and begins walking through his bedroom. “You’re off on Sundays, right? Can I call you this Sunday?”
“When you say ‘call,’ do you mean video chat? I want to be prepared this time.”
“You couldn’t be unprepared if you tried,” he says. “And yes, it’ll be a FaceTime. Why would I waste time with a phone call when I can look at you?”
I like this flirty side of Atlas. I have to bite my bottom lipfor two seconds in order to hold back my grin. “Goodnight, Atlas.”
“?’Night, Lily.”
Even the way he makes such intense eye contact while saying goodbye makes my stomach flip. I end the call and press my face into my pillow. I squeal like I’m sixteen again.
Chapter NineAtlas
“Let me see a picture,” Theo says. He’s sitting on the back steps watching me pick up shattered glass and several bags of trash from the third incident, which occurred last night. Brad called this morning to let me know Bib’s was hit again. He and Theo met me here to clean it up, even though I told him not to worry about coming. I hate when my employees have to show up for anything on the only day of the week we’re closed.
“I don’t have a picture of her,” I say to Theo.
“So she’s ugly?”
I toss the box of glass into the dumpster. “She’s gorgeous and way out of my league.”
“Ugly would still be out of your league,” he deadpans. “She doesn’t have social media?”
“She does, but it’s set to private.”
“You aren’t her friend on anything? Facebook? Instagram? Do you even have a Snapchat?”
“What do you know about Snapchat? You don’t even have a phone.”
“I have my ways,” he says.
His dad comes back outside with a trash bag. He holds it open, and we start throwing some of the scattered garbage init while Theo remains on the steps. “I would help, but I just took a shower,” he says.
“You showered yesterday,” Brad says.
“Yeah, and I’m still clean.” Theo focuses on me again. “Do you have social media?”
“No, I don’t have time for that.”
“Then how do you know her stuff is set to private?”
I’ve occasionally attempted to look her up online, and as much as I don’t want to admit that, I’m not sure there’s a person on this planet who hasn’t done a few Google searches on people from their past. “I’ve looked her up before. You have to have a profile and follow her to see her stuff.”
“So make a profile and follow her,” Theo says. “I swear, sometimes you make things harder than they need to be.”
“It’s complicated. She has an ex-husband who doesn’t like me, and if he saw that we were friends online it might become an issue for her.”