the controlled line of her mouth melts and softens. “I had no idea.”
I drop my head until my forehead presses against hers.
“Thank you, Bris.” I sneak a kiss into the hair pulled back at her temple. “I meant what I said tonight. I know how much you’ve done for this project. How much you’ve done for me.”
She only answers with a nod, but her lashes fall to cover her eyes, and her hand holds me at my hip as if she might fall if she lets go. I’d love for us to fall together.
But we can’t. Or she won’t. Whatever it is, I refuse to let this feel like something it’s not. Or something she won’t allow it to be because I’ll go to my grave believing Bristol cares about me. That doesn’t do me any good when she chooses to be with someone else. And at least for now, so am I.
“I better get going.” I pull back, but somehow, my hand finds her neck, and my thumb caresses the warm skin over her hammering pulse. Somehow, her hand is still at my waist. “My mom’s making chicken and waffles.”
“Sounds good.” She looks at me, and though we both keep asserting that we need to go, we can’t seem to separate.
“You wanna come?” I know she won’t, but the question is out before I can stop myself.
“Um, I doubt your mother would appreciate that.” Bristol looks at the ground, a wry grin teasing one corner of her mouth. “She and Qwest seem to be getting along well, which is great. I’m glad. I’m happy for them . . . for you.”
She nods, like she’s convincing herself as much as she’s convincing me.
“I’m . . . yeah. Okay.” She raises her glance from the floor. “Maybe I’ll come another time. I’ve never had chicken and waffles together.”
The smiles we trade carry traces of sadness. I don’t know what we will become. I’m not looking forward to telling her she won’t be my manager anymore. Obviously, any hope that we’ll be lovers is fading fast. And I can’t stand by and watch her with that asshole, so even friendship feels like torture. Whatever we will be, for a few minutes, we’re . . . us. All I’ve ever wanted was for Bristol and me to be an us. I don’t know what that looks like anymore, but I’ll fight to keep her in my life.
Later.
But not while I can still taste her wild kisses in the fun house from years ago, where even distorted in mirrors, our bodies looked right together. So letting go of the us I always thought we would be . . . it’s too soon for that.
“I better get going,” I say. “They’re waiting for me.”
My hand falls from her neck, and the fluorescent lights glint off the watch on my wrist. Bristol’s eyes follow my arm down to my side.
“Nice watch,” she says, her eyes set on the gaudy thing that feels like an albatross tied around my wrist.
“Yeah.” I lift it for my own inspection.
Her lips concede a smile before leveling out.
“Grip, Ms. Mittie said come on!” Amir’s voice reaches us just before the door opens and he appears, flicking a surprised glance between Bristol and me. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here, Bristol.”
“It’s okay.” She smooths her hair. “I was just going. I assume you’re in for chicken and waffles?”
“Best believe it.” He grins a little uneasily, still not sure what he walked in on. “You coming?”
“No, I need to go,” she says, glancing at her watch.
“Parker waiting for you?” I ask grimly. The thought of him at her house, in her bed, or her in some penthouse with him, erases the goodwill of the last few moments.
“No.” She looks back over her shoulder, one brow lifted at the return of my censure. “He’s still in India.”
She makes her way to the door, stopping to give Amir a hug. He’s one of those few she loves. They couldn’t be more different, but they get each other. In the beginning, I was their common denominator, but they’ve formed their own friendship over the years.
“Your passport is current, right?” She pulls out of the hug and pats the side of his face affectionately. “You ready for Dubai?”
“More than ready.” Amir rubs his hands together. “I hear they got some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.”
“I have a feeling you’re not talking about the landscape.” She laughs and heads for the door.