Fletch his first nice suit. Annoyance fills me. I know I should be grateful, but I feel like Tristan has stepped over the line. This was something that I wanted to do.
I’m his mother . . . it should have been me.
“Him and Sammia took me. Sammia told me to let him buy it because he has the money, and it’s true—I have been working very hard.”
“Wow.” I widen my eyes as I act enthusiastic. “Remind me, who is Sammia?”
“She’s Jameson’s PA. Her and Tristan are good friends.”
“Oh.” I remember her. She’s gorgeous.
“Yeah, I thought they were going out for a while.”
My eyes flick over to him. “Why did you think that?”
“Oh, they go to lunch together a lot. I just assumed.”
I grip the steering wheel as an unexpected burst of jealousy runs through me. I glance back over at him. “So . . . are they going out?”
“No. I met Sammia’s fiancé this week. Turns out they really are just friends.”
“Oh.” Relief fills me, and I frown as I assess my emotions. Hmm . . . I really shouldn’t care what he does.
Turns out that maybe I do. “Do you like Tristan?” I ask him.
“Yeah, he’s kind of growing on me.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, he’s not the bastard he pretends to be. Put it that way.”
My eyes dart between him and the road. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know,” he says causally as he stares out the window at the people rushing by on the sidewalk. “He’s not who I thought he was.”
“How come?”
“I don’t think he’s a bad guy in a good suit like I first thought. I think he’s actually a good guy in a good suit.” He takes out his phone and starts to scroll. “He’s actually pretty funny.”
I bite my lip to hold my tongue. I want to ask him a million questions about Tristan Miles, but I know I can’t be obvious, and besides, he and I are effectively just friends, so it doesn’t matter anyway.
My mind goes over what he said to me in my office earlier today.
“So . . . sleeping with only you . . . isn’t a problem for me.” His lips touched mine. “However, not sleeping with you is a torture I won’t tolerate.”
I smirk to myself as I drive. I like the fact that he doesn’t want anyone else, and I know that this is probably a disaster waiting to happen, but I’m going with the oblivious approach.
I’m just not going to think about it.
What will I wear tomorrow? Nerves flutter in my stomach at the thought of having him to myself for an hour.
For the first time since Paris, I find myself being a little excited.
Marley walks into my office. “What do you want to have for lunch?”
“Oh, um.” I pause. Shit. “I have an appointment today on my lunch break. Sorry.” I spin toward her in my chair. It doesn’t feel right lying to my best friend, but this really needs to stay between Tristan and me. “What are you going to get?”
“Hmm . . . not sure, really. I’m feeling like sushi, but then”—she grimaces—“I can’t be bothered to walk to the good place.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s a trek.” I think for a moment. “What about Denver’s?”
She screws up her face, as if I’m stupid. “Don’t you remember last time we went there?”
“No, what happened?”
“Death by risotto.” She widens her eyes. “We nearly died that day, Claire.”
I giggle. “Oh, that’s right. How could I ever forget that?” We had risotto, and it upset our stomachs so bad that we were lying on my office floor groaning for an hour.
“What appointment do you have?”
“Oh.” I try to think on my feet. “Doctor. Just an annual checkup.” My phone beeps with a text, and I see the name Tristan light up the screen. I turn it over so that she can’t see his name.
“Cool,” she says as she walks toward the door.
“What are you going to have?” I call. “Death by risotto or good sushi?”
She shrugs. “Hmm, probably mediocre sushi from around the corner. Save my feet.”
“Mediocre sushi is better than no sushi at all,” I reply.
“This is true.” She disappears out the door, and I read my text.
Anderson,
Your lunch date is at
Dream Downtown at 1pm.
Tris.
xo
I smile and glance at my clock. Hmm, that’s a weird place to have lunch. Must be so that nobody sees us. One hour until I get to see him.
I walk into the foyer of the Dream Downtown hotel right at one