“Exactly my thoughts.” Matt comes to stand next to me and opens the bottle, then begins filling the glasses I set out for each of us.
“So where is the guy Mom told us about?” May asks, obviously not remembering him, and although I’m thankful for that small reprieve, I inwardly groan, wishing it were actually possible for my mom to keep things to herself.
“He’s in Vegas,” I state simply, hoping that will end the conversation before it can begin.
“What guy is this? You never told me about a guy,” Matt says, and I sigh.
“He’s just a client.”
“You say that, but you have a weird look on your face,” July points out, and I look between her and everyone else, finding them all studying me closely now.
“Mom said you two were obviously together,” May adds.
“We’re not.” I take the glass of wine Matt hands to me. “Or I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, and I think about deflecting, but the truth is, I could use some advice, since I’ve never been in a situation like this before.
“It’s complicated,” I answer, then explain everything that happened while he was here, then about the kiss and him saying we will talk when he gets back. When I finish, everyone’s completely quiet and looking at me with wide eyes.
“Well, it sounds to me like you’re his,” July says with a smirk.
“I’d say so too,” Kirk agrees.
“I haven’t heard from him once since he left the day before yesterday, and you’d think if he really is interested that he would call to check in or at the least send a text. Heck, even an email would be better than complete silence,” I say, feeling the same sense of disappointment I felt at sixteen when I never heard from him after the kiss we shared.
“Have you reached out to him?” Matt asks, and I shake my head and leave out that I have written him about a dozen texts, then deleted each of them. Nothing I wrote ever seemed right. And honestly, it makes me uncomfortable putting myself out there, being the one to make a move first. Or any move at all really.
“So you don’t even know if something happened to him? He could be in the hospital right now,” May says, and I gasp.
“Don’t say that.” I press my hand to my stomach.
“It’s true. He could be.” She shrugs.
“Stop saying that,” I demand, and she smirks.
“There is only one way to find out that he’s not.” She nudges my phone toward me, and I stare at it like it’s a snake ready to strike.
“Answer me this,” Kirk says softly, and I focus on him. “Do you like him?”
“Yes,” I admit the truth out loud—and to myself for the first time. “A lot actually.”
“Then maybe you should give him a call,” Matt adds gently, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Not every guy is like Cohen. There are some good ones out there.” He looks at his husband with softness in his eyes.
“I can attest to that.” July catches my gaze, and I smile at her, because she is not wrong. Wes, her husband, is one of the best, and I love the way he loves my sister.
“All right, I’m going to call him.” I start to reach for my phone but stop when someone knocks on the door downstairs.
“I thought it was just us for dinner tonight,” Matt says.
“It is.” I look at my sisters. “No one else was coming, right?”
“No, everyone was busy,” May replies, and I shrug and head for the stairs, hearing everyone follow behind me.
When I reach the bottom step, I see the outline of a large man standing on the other side of the door. Opening it, my heart drops into my stomach, and I brace my hand on the doorjamb to keep from falling over when I come face-to-face with Gene, the guy who does security for Maxim and his family.
A million reasons why he would be knocking on my door fill my mind, and not one of them is good. He looks at me, then the people behind me, and says something into the phone at his ear before pulling it away.
“Mr. Kauwe would like to speak with you.” He holds out a phone toward me, and I look down at it.
“What?”
“Mr. Kauwe would like to speak to you.” He lifts the phone closer to my face, then sighs when I don’t take it and puts it on speaker. “She can hear you,” he rumbles.
“April,” Maxim says, and I take the phone.
“Yes.”
“Do you have friends over?”
I frown, looking behind me at my sisters and my friends, all of whom are watching me and listening closely. “Yes?”
“Just friends?”
“I’m sorry. I must have hit my head, because I swear your security just knocked on my door, giving me heart palpitations, making me think you were dead and that he was here to give me the news. Instead, he’s handed me a phone, and now you’re asking who I have over and questioning if they are just friends.”