Page 47

I glare at him as he fixes his glasses. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey. We were…” She trails off, red rushing to her cheeks.
Clark elbows her, and I want to knee him in the crotch. How dare he? I don’t care if she were to say they were getting busy on the couch, you don’t shut her up like she’s a child.
I take a deep breath and give her a smile. “It’s okay.”
“I should go,” Clark states.
Yes, you fucking should.It would be polite to leave the room, but I stand my ground.
He grabs her hand. “Gotta get ready for tonight.”
My gaze zeros in on their interlaced fingers. “What’s tonight?”
“Clark and I are going out to celebrate my article.”
I peer up at her, taking her in. She’s beaming, and jealousy ricochets through me. “Where to?”
“Bubbles.”
I lift my brows. A nightclub doesn’t sound like a place either of them would go, but okay. Every so often, they have a special night when they pump in bubbles from the ceiling. Trish and I went before. It was a blast—or so I thought at the time. “Cool.”
“You should come,” she says, gaze lighting up.
Clark gives her a look. I wasn’t going to turn her down at all, but now I’m going to make him pay. “That’s awesome. I would love to. I did read your final draft, after all.”
She grins, pushing my shoulder. “Catches one missed period and this guy thinks he should get a byline.”
“It was a crucial period.”
She shakes her head, and the way she laughs does something to me that I can’t explain.
Clark clears his throat.
What kind of motherfucker clears his throat like that?
“I’m going to take off.” He glances my way. “Other people are going tonight, so, unfortunately, there’s no room for you in the car. You’ll have to find your own ride.”
“No problem. I got a car.” My smile stretches so tight it could crack at any moment.
Without warning, Clark swoops down and kisses Len on the cheek. I watch it all, wanting to rip him away from her. I’m beyond telling myself it’s because he’s a jerk to her. These feelings came on gradually, then all at once, nearly plowing me over. She’s smart and funny, and no matter how many times I try to talk myself out of it, I’m still going to feel this way.
I move next to her while he strides down the hallway. He turns at the last second, and I’m right there, taking his spot. For good measure, I put my arm around her. His smile falters, and he quickly closes the door behind himself.
“Sorry. He was kind of rude.”
“He probably feels threatened.”
“Yeah, okay,” she says doubtfully, taking her glasses off to stare at the lenses and then putting them back on.
“I mean, you live with me.”
She turns to face me, and my arm drops off her shoulders. “You, sir, live with me,” she says, pointing first to my chest, then to hers. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Oh, is that how it is?”
“That’s how it is.”