“Will Michael be at Madison’s birthday?” Lauren asks, wrinkling her nose.
“Unfortunately.” I lift a brow. “She couldn’tnotinvite him when the rest of the staff will be there.” And maybe it’ll be a chance for things between us to calm down. As much as I’ve enjoyed getting one over on him, we’re both adults and need to work together.
“Ugh. Is there any way we can help?” Lauren asks. “Maybe we could put rat poison in his champagne.”
“Or itching powder in his shorts,” Ava says, wiggling her brows.
I smile because they’re my people and they’d actually do those things for me if I asked. Which I won’t because I’m in my thirties and not a kid.
“It’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can deal with him for one night,” I tell them. “He’s been strangely hands off since the charity ball.”
“That’s because he knows you’re worth something now,” Lauren points out. “Although that’s kind of a crock of shit because you were always worth so much more than him.”
As I said, these women are my people. And that’s why I love them.
* * *
It’s almost nine-thirty the next evening when my phone rings. I’m sitting on the sofa in my apartment, wearing a pair of yoga shorts and a flimsy tank, my hair pulled back into a bun which is way more than messy. The television is on but silent, a Netflix documentary about a bank heist gone wrong flickering on the screen, subtitles telling me that apparently putting your gun down while you adjust your Scream mask isn’t a good idea.
I also have my laptop balanced on my knees because I’m trying to multitask. When I see who’s calling, I blink but answer it anyway, pausing the documentary so I don’t miss a piece of important information.
“Hi Liam.” I keep my voice light like I’m his friend. Because I’m supposed to be. It still feels a bit weird though.
“Sophie.” His voice is low and gruff. The perfect pitch. I know a lot of people don’t notice voices but I do. My mom had a thing about Neil Diamond when I was growing up and I couldn’t understand her addiction to his growly low voice at all.
I do now though.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. Because it’s Tuesday night.Date night. What’s he doing calling me? “Don’t tell me it started to rain on your dinner. I’m not offering you a refund.”
He chuckles and I shift my seating position.
“No. It’s glorious like you said it would be. My dinner date wanted to talk to you, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry what?”
He laughs again. The man is amazingly carefree. Who goes on a date and calls another woman, then encourages the two of them to talk? I’m seriously considering rescinding our friendship card.
“She wants to thank you for the forecast. I wouldn’t have chosen this place if it hadn’t been for your forecast.”
“I thought the sun always shone on you,” I say, because he really is the golden boy. And also because I don’t want to talk to this woman he’s dating. Not when I know what they’ll be doing later.
No, I’m not jealous.
Okay maybe a little.
“You’d be surprised. Hang on…” There’s a shuffling noise and I assume I’m being passed onto the date. I’m going to store this up for the next time I see Lauren and Ava. They’re going to think it’s the funniest thing even if I’m finding it mortifying.
“Hello? Sophie?” A smooth, feminine voice echoes into my ears. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” I say. “How are you?” What’s with this weird conversation? Should I be warning her that Liam is only good for one night? Isn’t that what the sisterhood should do? I’m seriously contemplating it when she starts to talk again.
“I’m much better after spending the evening with my son,” she says. “Thank you for helping him choose the perfect spot.”
My mouth drops.
That’s simultaneously sweet as heck and aggravating. He must have known I’d think the worse. And now instead of feeling jealous, I’m grumpy that I was worried about him having dinner with his mom.
“I’m glad you’re having a good evening,” I say, my voice warm because I really like his mom. “Was the food good?”