Hard Love (Trophy Boyfriends #3) - Sara Ney Page 0,39
she’s sitting up in bed—or at least, I imagine she is, wide-eyed and incredulous at my bravery. “Are you out of your freaking mind?”
Apparently so.
My entire family is. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her.
“That sounds like a yes, you’re available at seven.”
Chandler laughs. “No offense, but I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“Trust me, I have.”
Over and over again, every possible scenario running on a loop through my mind, down to the paparazzi that are staples, planted outside the restaurant on a regular basis.
“I mean—that was the deal, so I can meet you there at seven.”
“I can grab you if you want?” Which would interfere with my being home by nine; however, it looks better if she and I arrive together and can be photographed walking inside. I could put my arm around her shoulders—maybe she wouldn’t elbow me in the gut for touching her—which would make a great photo op.
It’s foolproof.
“You don’t have to pick me up. I can drive.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Her concession is met with a long, weighty pause. The kind of pause where crickets would begin chirping in the background if we had any crickets lying around. Or a looming cloud would lower itself to hover.
“So. Okay. Tomorrow at The Ivy,” I declare. I’m usually way suaver than this with the ladies.
Or maybe not. Maybe Mom was right and this is the reason I’m single. At the rate I’m going—or not going, depending on how you look at it—I’ll be forever alone for the rest of my miserable life. Chewy won’t always be around to keep me company; then what will I do?
Shit.
I can practice flirting with Chandler tomorrow night too, kill two birds with one stone. She won’t even notice.
“Glad we got that settled.”
“I…” Crap. Now what do I say? “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
She chuckles, mocking me. “Oh, I bet you are.”
“I am!”
“Uh-huh.”
I pause. “Are you by any chance taking wardrobe suggestions, since you get to dictate mine?”
“Nope.” She pops the P and laughs. “No way in hell would I let you tell me what to wear. Like I trust you.”
No, I don’t suppose she would. But the part about her not trusting me? Ouch. “We’re family, you know. You can trust me.”
“Family is putting it loosely. You’re Hollis’s family now more than mine, but I get what you mean.”
“On second thought…” I’m about to throw out the offer to pick her up one more time, hoping she’ll take me up on it. I need to be seen arriving with her. “How about if I come get you around six? Is that too late to eat?”
Chandler sighs on the other end of the line and pauses, giving it some serious thought. She isn’t going to give in to my pleas just like that, taking a few seconds to mull it over.
“You’re only twenty minutes from my place,” I say, by way of a nudge. “And I’ve been wanting to show off my new car.”
“Your new car?”
Crap. What possessed me to say that? I don’t have a new car—I only have my truck! I am such an idiot; this woman is turning me into a dunce.
“Yeah, uh…my new car. It’s actually a loaner? From the, uh…dealership. Yeah, the dealership. To see if I, um, like it enough to buy it.” Stupid, stupid, stupid, stop talking. This means I’ll have to borrow a car from someone.
Since when did I become a liar?
Since you need her to ride to the restaurant with you, so you can see and be seen.
Yeah, but since when did I start using people for my own selfish reasons?
I glance down at Chewy. He’s happily chewing on a bone, completely oblivious to the pit forming in my stomach. One that feels like guilt and regret.
I scratch behind his ears and his stumpy tail wags cheerily as he gives up his bone, stands, and walks to the end of the bed to fetch a ball that’s lying there. Brings it to me, dropping it near the palm I just used to pet him with.
It’s red and slobbery.
I toss it the few short feet to the foot of the bed.
He leaps at it.
Brings it back.
“What’s that noise?” Chandler asks.
Is she talking about Chewy? “That’s my dog. I just threw him a ball.”
“I thought maybe you would already be in bed.”
“I am.” We are. “But since I’m awake, he’s awake, which makes him want to play.” The red ball makes its appearance in my hand, and I toss it, this time out the bedroom