“True,” Ford calls, shoving his chair back, “but fishing is way more fun than talking to Graham. Let’s go see what we can get into, buddy.” As they walk out, Ford leans in to Barrett and whispers just loud enough for me to hear, “Your turn to deal with him. Graham has a stick up his ass today.”
“Fuck off,” I chuckle. But he’s not all wrong.
I had to leave the office today because I couldn’t stand the proximity. Not because I wanted to be away from her. Because I wanted to be inside her. I wanted to scoop her up and listen to her laugh and hear her yoga stories and watch her face bunch up as she thinks of a response to something I’ve said.
Everything about this is impossible. I watched her pull away from the office last night after dropping her off. Her taillights dimmed as she vanished around the corner, and it took everything I had to not jump in my car and follow her.
Purely selfish. That’s what I am. There’s nothing I can give her, nothing I’m willing to give her, more than what we’ve been doing. That’s not fair to her in any way. Yet, I want to keep her in my office so I can breathe her in, feel her closeness. I want to sneak away for a few hours with her wrapped around me and just enjoy being with her. But if I do, everything will fall apart.
“What’s up, G?” Barrett sits in the chair previously occupied by Ford. He twists his head as he considers just how right Ford may have been with his interpretation of my demeanor. “You are pissed off.”
“Nah,” I say, drumming a pen against the table. “I’m fine.”
“Talk to me. What’s happening? Something with Ford?” When I don’t respond, he snickers. “Oh, I see.”
“You don’t see shit.”
“Oh, I think I do, little brother.” We stare at each other across the table, him laughing, me glaring. “Just to be clear, I may be in Atlanta most of the time now, but I still talk. Specifically, to Linc. So I know things.”
“If Lincoln is giving you information, and you’re taking it, you aren’t nearly as smart as I give you credit for.”
“Let’s see how credible my sources are. I get one guess, all right?”
“Barrett,” I warn.
“It is . . . Mallory?”
I shrug.
“I’ve seen her. She’s hot.”
I shrug again.
“Ford also chipped in that she was really smart, and believe it or not, Dad likes her.”
I shrug for a third time, but this time with a warning shot. Barrett laughs.
“Ford also said if you weren’t eyeing her—”
“Enough,” I shoot, sitting up and clasping my hands together on the table.
“I was only kidding. Ford didn’t say that last part, but I knew if I said he did, I’d get a true reaction out of you.”
“You are such a fucking politician,” I say, relieved that Ford wasn’t seriously looking at Mallory. As the relief lifts off me, I slump back again. “Barrett,” I wince. “I’m in trouble.”
He leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table, looking all smug.
“Mom will kill you for that,” Lincoln blasts, coming in the room. “Trust me. I got smacked yesterday for something pretty similar.”
We all laugh as Lincoln grabs a seat next to Barrett. As we settle down, I realize they’re both looking at me like I’m a suspect in some investigation. Suddenly, I feel very outnumbered.
“So, what are we talking about?” Lincoln asks, blowing a huge pink bubble and letting it smack against his face.
“Your happiness is annoying,” I say.
“That’s what good pussy will do for ya, G. Try it.”
“We were just talking about that,” Barrett notes, smiling smugly at me.