letting you think about it.”
“Yeah, but he could still change his mind.”
“Then you blew it.” Tess is nothing if not blunt.
“I might have.” I sigh. “I’m home. I’m going to pour myself a glass of water, eat this gourmet burger and fries, and try not to think about the evening I could be having.”
“He’ll be back,” she says. “See you tomorrow at yoga.”
Tessa and I practice yoga together Saturday mornings at the gym. She’s working toward her instructor’s certificate, and I just try not to look too clumsy. My downward dog still sucks.
“Yeah, see you.” I end the call, park my car, and head up to my tiny apartment, where I spend the evening alone.
…
Yoga class is especially difficult the next morning. Tessa, of course, breezes through, but I know I’ll feel this workout tomorrow in my thighs and ass, which only reminds me of my last intense workout. With Braden.
“Coffee?” Tess says after we change back into our street clothes.
“Always.”
We head to the Bean There Done That where I photographed Addison on Monday.
“Is the cinnamon mocha latte any good?” Tessa asks as we get in line.
“I have no idea. I haven’t tried it.”
“You didn’t taste Addison’s when you shot the photo?”
“She didn’t offer me any.”
“Why not? You told me she hates coffee.”
I let out a soft huff. “That doesn’t mean she offered it to me.”
“Really? Self-centered diva.” Tessa scoffs.
“Pretty much,” I say. “She can be nice sometimes. I think she’s been so privileged all her life that she doesn’t think about others.”
“Yeah. Like I said, self-centered diva.”
I laugh. “Semantics. You’re right.”
“May I help you?” the barista asks once we get to the head of the line.
We order black coffee, though Tessa will add a little cream to hers. A rich coffee drink doesn’t seem right after a workout.
“Hey,” the barista says, “Skye, isn’t it? You were in here with Addison Ames?”
“Yeah, nice to see you”—I eye her name tag—“Trish.”
“I love Addison’s posts. I went out and got that new lip plumper yesterday.”
“Do you like the color?” I ask.
“I love anything Addison recommends!” Trish gushes and shoves our coffees across the counter. “On the house today. I’m so glad you came back in. Why isn’t Addison with you?”
Because she hates coffee.
And it’s the weekend.
And we’re not besties.
“She’s busy,” I say cheerfully. “This is my friend Tessa.”
“So nice to meet you,” Trish gushes again. “Please tell Addison I bought the lip plumper.”
“Absolutely,” I say.
Tessa and I take our coffees to a vacant table in the corner.
“What are you up to tonight?” she asks.
“I have great plans,” I say sarcastically.
“Yeah? Did he call you?”
I take a sip of coffee, nearly burning my tongue. “Braden? Are you kidding? My great plans are to curl up in bed with a good book. I got a new romance novel.”
“Why read about sex when you could be doing it? Call him, Skye.”
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask.
“Nice pivot. If you’re not going to call Braden and have more mind-numbing sex, you and I are going out.”
“Tess, you know I hate clubbing. It’s loud and obnoxious. Everyone’s drunk, and all the men are looking for sex.”
She takes a sip of her coffee, swallows, and then smiles. “Exactly.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa and I make plans to meet for an early dinner and then go to Icon in the theatre district. While I’m getting dressed, my phone buzzes. Addison. Always great with the timing. What does she need from me on a Saturday night?
“Hey, Addie,” I say into the phone, sounding a lot nicer than I feel at the moment.
“Skye, I need a huge favor.”
Of course she does. “What do you need?”
“I’m supposed to go to this charity event tonight for Mothers Driving Drunk or something.”
“You mean Mothers Against Drunk Driving?”
“Yeah, that’s it. It’s at the hotel, but I can’t make it, so I need you to go, take a photo, and post it.”
I consider asking why she can’t make it but change my mind. She probably got a zit or something and can’t be seen in public. “Tessa and I have plans.”
“Don’t worry. Take her with. I have two tickets. I’ll email them to you now.”
“Wait, wait, wait. How am I supposed to take a selfie of you if you’re not there?”
“Use your imagination. You weren’t going to be there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing a selfie. Take a photo of the silent auction items or something and say how much I adore this charity. Whatever. This is what I pay you for, Skye. Besides, it’s black-tie, a