Page 31

If I needed any more evidence that this is a thing, the three of us, the four of us, rather, this is it. Black pixels on my screen. Undeniable.
Kingston: Are you guys free tonight? I thought I’d cook.
Alex: can you cook?
Kingston: of course!
Kingston: you doubt me?
I hear his voice in my head. See those pouty lips and that hurt, almost puppy dog expression. Then I remember the way he looked as he came, filling Katherine’s ass.
My dick twitches, eager for another round.
Alex: Happy to be proven wrong.smirking face emoji
Gabe: feel free to cook at our place if you want. I’ll get Vic to give you a card.
I shoot Vic a quick note and then flip back to the group text, studying the name.
Gabe changed the name of the conversation to “3 eggplant emojis, no smiling cat with heart-eyes emoji.”
Katherine
Two sets of eyes shoot in my direction. I give Simon a little wave, feeling better just stepping foot in the door. I’m surrounded by friends and plants. Friends who like me for me and plants who have very simple requirements.
His shop has been a sanctuary for me, and I need his plants and vivacious personality more than ever.
“Katrina!” He steps my way, letting go of the massive pot.
It rocks back and forth precariously. He gasps, his dark brown eyes swerving back to the project at hand. Luckily, his assistant has a good hold on the bush-sized jade plant and manages to keep her balance.
“You’re just in time.” His smile is wide. Full lips. Bright white teeth. He glances past me.
I follow his gaze to where Roman takes up position near the shop door, hands folded in front of him.
I turn back, happy to have something else to think about for a few minutes.
“How did you get yourself into this?” I wave toward the plant.
I start to put my phone away and my cheeks turn bright pink as I read Gabe’s text a second time.No time for that now.Taking a cooling breath, I slide my phone into my purse and tuck it behind the counter before stepping toward them.
The space is overflowing with pots, plants, tools, and spray bottles full of peroxide mixtures and fertilizers. It smells of dirt and vegetation, with heavy, humid air and a hint of fish emulsion.
“It’s an orphan.” Simon frowns and gives the pot another tug.
“Somebody left it in the alley this morning,” Bonnie adds.
“Wow. Well, at least they brought it to you.” I’ve had to bring a few plants back to him. Finicky types that just weren’t happy in my apartment. There’s no shame in realizing a plant is outside your expertise and finding it a better home.
“It’s a rootbound mess,” he says.
“We’re trying to salvage the pot if we can, but it needs to come out.”
This is not the right outfit for this sort of thing, but I reach for the pot anyway. Made of thick clay with a wavy design, I can tell it’s old. Worn. And the plant has obviously been in there a while.
Bonnie gives a tug as Simon and I hold the plot in place. A smirk curls my lips at the thought of a photographer catching a picture of this. Me in my work-appropriate attire, dirt beneath my nails, one brush away from snagging my dress.I love it.
We play tug-of-war with the pot and giant plant, but it doesn’t give up.