was happening. I might as well make the best of it. Was he right? Did I not have to be the nicest person in every room, every day?
That was something to think about as I huffed and puffed down another Paris street.
I could walk, which was a good thing because I was just about to call my sister back for the third round of phone tag, when Zeke came into my room. “Put on something slightly fancy. Not club fancy. Restaurant quality nice. We have something to do tonight.”
“Sure.” I nodded. I’d been spending all my time in my newly acquired jeans and T-shirts, except when I was running, for which I pulled out the yoga clothes.
I had a closet full of things he’d bought me, none of which I’d glanced at in a week. A week? Had it been that long?
“When do you want me ready?”
He stared at me from the doorframe, where he hadn’t moved. “What? Dinner is at eight, but we have something to do first. So be ready for six. What are you working on?”
I glanced down at my paper. “You know me and my little sketches.”
“Hmm.”
I wasn’t sure what that sound meant, but it was all he gave me before he exited. It was three. I had a little time to finish what I was working on, which actually was for him, before I had to be ready. Also, I really needed to call back Hope. She’d be the easier of the two to talk to. Bridget was going to want details I didn’t know because I didn’t have enough knowledge to know what questions to ask. I supposed I could direct her to Zeke.
That didn’t sit well, and I wanted to shout at myself. Was I really so off that I didn’t want Zeke to talk to other women? Even my sister? What was I worried about? That he’d prefer someone else, even my sister?
“Okay, Layla, get your shit together. Stop being this woman. You hate this woman.”
I picked up the phone and called Hope. She answered on one ring. “Finally.”
“Sorry. Time change issues.”
She laughed. “Well, that and the fact that you’re tearing around on the motorcycle with Zeke Scott.”
I winced. There must be photos online. I might not like it, but this was my life. When I went out in public, there was a chance that someone would be there with a phone to capture the moment. “Right. That, too. How are you?”
She sighed. “Not great. I miss you. It was the second Thursday of the month. You know what happens on the second Thursday of the month.”
I smiled. “We have tapas.”
Well, Hope ate it and I picked at it. Maybe in the future, I would eat more of it, too. I’d certainly found my appetite. Yes, I should have been back from my honeymoon by now, and we would have had dinner while I told her about my days sitting in the sun. Well, under an umbrella shaded like I wasn’t in the sun.
I was a redhead.
“We’ll do it again.”
She laughed. “Will the good-looking Mr. Scott be joining us?”
“I’m not sure that I can answer that, yet. But I have to talk to you about something else.”
“Okay.” She sounded more serious. “What’s up?”
I looked around the room. My stuff was everywhere. I wasn’t neat and organized. A shirt lay over the chair in the corner. My art supplies were on the desk. The bed, that got made up every day by staff I never saw, was crumpled. I’d certainly made myself at home. And even thought of it that way now.
Hope deserved me to remember that wasn’t true. At least not yet. “Hope, you need to quit your job.”
She was silent for a long moment. “I’m not going to say that I haven’t thought that myself on occasion. I mean, I hate it, and I don’t think they really care about doing the charitable side of things. Like they’re patting me on the head. But…why particularly now?”
“Have you heard that Zeke and Dad are dissolving their partnership?”
“What?” she shouted into my ear, and I winced. “No. Does Bridget know? I mean…fuck. What will Dad do? Why is Zeke doing this?”
I swallowed. “Dad is involved with some bad shit, Hope. And I think you and Bridget should quit your jobs and be as far from the fallout that has to be coming as you possibly can.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice was lower. “I mean…Zeke is on one side, Dad is on another. Maybe