rolls his eyes at my Wizard of Oz quote and then hauls himself up, using his cane for leverage. “Fine. But I’m giving North the employee-of-the-month award.”
“Unless the award is a chocolate cupcake that is delivered to my mouth in the next five minutes, I don’t care.”
He snorts, but a ghost of a smile is in his eyes. “Sorry, I award red velvet.”
“Pfft. Be gone with you, then.” I wave him off, knowing he isn’t so easily dismissed but finding small gratification in teasing him.
As predicted, Macon doesn’t move but rests a hand on his hip and peers at me from under the dark fan of his lashes. All the humor bleeds out of his expression, and I find myself frowning. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s hesitating. The moment pulls tighter between us, and he lets out a breath, squeezing the back of his neck with one hand. It is unfair how good that makes his bunching biceps look.
“Take the whole day, then,” he finally says. “I’m going out tonight.”
The way he says it has my hackles rising. I shouldn’t care; he can go wherever he wants. But there’s something almost guilt laden about the way he looks at me. Why would he be guilty?
“Okay,” I say, drawing the word out. “Have fun.”
His lips press together as if he’s fighting some internal battle, but then his chin rises. “If I’m not back for breakfast, I’ll text.”
Ah. That’s why. My stomach does a weird, sick lurch. He’s going on a date. It should be expected; while I might call him an asshat, there’s no denying he’s gorgeous. Hell, he’s famous. That right there would get him laid even if he needed to wear a bag over his head and had chronic halitosis.
Shit, I’m too quiet. I shrug my shoulder as if it doesn’t weigh a ton. “Kind of you to let me know.”
His expression turns stony, and I find myself replaying my words. Was I too flippant? Not enough? Whatever the case, I clearly didn’t convince him that I am unmoved. And that is not okay. It’s a struggle to play off tired grumpiness when a lump of inconvenient and unwanted jealousy sits heavy on my chest. But I try. “Is that all? Because the ibuprofen is kicking in, and I’m getting sleepy again.”
Macon’s nostrils flare with an indrawn breath, but he gives me a bland look. “Nope. That’s it. See you tomorrow, sleeping beauty.”
Tomorrow? As if it is now a sure thing that he isn’t going to come home. As soon as he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him, I pull the covers over my head and curse my damn raging hormones. I miss him as soon as he’s out of sight. Damn that too.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Delilah
I didn’t lie when I told Macon I needed rest. Well, rest and wallowing. As soon as he’s gone, I tuck into a quart of coffee fudge ice cream that I hid beneath a bag of frozen peas, knowing that Macon hates peas and would never think to look behind them. Yes, I’ve become that chef, managing her client’s diet even when not around. Bah.
Bitterness coats my tongue, and I can’t blame the ice cream. Tossing the empty carton into the kitchen trash and cleaning off my spoon, I find myself at a loss of what to do next. I’ve slept too long, and the house is too empty. Outside is a wall of darkness, and the lights in the kitchen reflect my face back to me in the window. I look tired and puffy. And there is a zit on my chin.
“Lovely,” I mutter, instantly wanting to mess with the thing. Determined to rally, I march to my room, slather on a pore-tightening mask, and take a long hot shower. Bundled up in my robe, I put out an SOS call to my friends.
In high school, I used to think I’d get out of my small town, find my people, and fall into a glamorous life similar to Sex and the City. Didn’t happen that way. I made friends, but over the years those relationships have changed. People move away, get married, get mired in their careers. Some are even having kids now. Which all means there’s little time for hanging out in bars, and I talk to friends less and less.
Now, I’m starved for some conversation, anything to get my mind off things. Predictably, some friends are busy—it’s Friday night, after all—but Jia answers, asking me to come visit