I just ran fucking ten miles, so I roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, it’s called sweat. Maybe if you actually joined me like you keep saying you will, you’d know what that’s like.”
It’s his turn to roll his eyes, a crooked grin forming as he leans back. “Nah, it’s something else. Something I haven’t seen in a long time. Is that…a smile?”
Deadpan, I glare at him. “I smile.”
He snorts, closing his laptop. “Uh huh. Just like I go on runs all the time. Which, by the way, is the last thing I’d do with you after last time. You fucking ditched me two miles in.”
What a drama queen. “I gave you money to get a cab ride back. You didn’t look so good.”
“You were running too fast!”
I’m full on laughing now. “You ran too slow. I told you I’d take it easier on you next time if you really wanted to—”
“No.” He takes a sip of his water. “What’s got you so happy all of a sudden? It sure as shit can’t be about the news I told you we’d discuss today. You cussed me out as soon as I mentioned signing on, and I highly doubt you’ve changed your mind in the three days since we’ve talked.”
Chuckling over his pointed 72-hour statement, I finish the water and set the glass down on the counter. Gordy and I have talked almost every day since we’ve known each other. Half the shit he texts or calls me about is work related, the other is because I have something to bitch to him about—whether it’s Harry, Mia, or Chase related, he’s heard it all from me. “I don’t know why you act like I’ve been such a miserable asshole lately.”
All he does is stare.
My jaw ticks. “You’re a dick. I haven’t been a miserable— Would you quit giving me that look? Jesus. You’re worse than Mia sometimes.”
Now he’s grinning wider. “So, she’s noticed too?”
Walking toward the doorway, I throw out a, “I don’t have time for this,” before escaping upstairs to wash off before going over what he came here for. More interview setups.
The one with Hot in Hollywood bumped my song to the number one spot, where it’s stayed. Sales have been good, Kalvin has been on my ass about doing an award show performance, and Gordy has been getting requests from other talk shows about being on to discuss life since I stepped out of the spotlight. If Gordy can take one look at me and see something has changed, I imagine the millions of viewers watching an interview with me would too.
I take my time drying off and dressing, looking at the rumpled bed sheets and blankets, indicative of the two bodies that have occupied it over the past few days. Even though she wouldn’t admit it, I could tell Lenny was sore—knew she would be after her first time. Like always, she brushed it off and fussed when I doted on her. One day she’ll let me take care of her without fighting me, and I can tell those walls are breaking slowly, but it’s still a work in progress.
Saying goodbye to her this morning felt different, the tug in my heart watching her head to school, then work after classes, told me how screwed I already am. If I agree to go on tour, to travel for award shows, I’d have to get used to saying goodbye to Lenny for longer than eight hours.
By the time I get downstairs, Gordy has a weird look on his face as he stares at his computer screen. Before I get to ask what his deal is, he says, “When are you going to tell me?”
As much as I want to play dumb, to keep Lenny as mine for a little while longer, I look over his shoulder at the extensive number of pictures he’s scrolling through on some website I’m vaguely familiar with. All me and Lenny, and the headlining image is one of us at the hospital, hands clasped together, foreheads touching, in a warm embrace.
The type of embrace that’s more than two people who used to be family.
“Is it really that surprising?” I counter with, stepping back and scrubbing a palm down my jaw. I shaved yesterday, but there’s a significant amount of stubble that meets my flesh before I drop my arms to my sides.
For a while, I don’t think Gordy is going to answer. His eyes don’t stray from the pictures that someone, probably a nurse or patient, snapped of us. One of me holding Lenny to my side with an arm wrapped around her waist, one of me kissing the top of her head, and one of us peering down at the freshly wrapped bundle of blue in the little cradle. That one had to of been the nurse whose eyes lingered too long and shied away the second mine connected, and I’m sure it means that a picture of Roman Casanova—my six pound, four ounce nephew—was sold to the hig
hest bidder as a first look exclusive.
I’m fuming. “I should get her fired.”
“You should tell me what’s going on with you and Leighton so I can clean this up.”
I gape at him. “Clean it up?”
His hand gestures toward the screen again, flapping chaotically. “Yes! I wish you would have given me a little warning that you were going to get your head out of your ass with Leighton.”
“I—” I stop myself, blinking at my best friend and cock my head. “What?”
Gordy sighs, closing his laptop and running a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer, a little less gray since Lenny became a frequent in my life again. “Like you said, I’m not surprised. You and Lenny have always been close. Closer since she got back. Considering how you two were before—”
“Nothing happened before,” I nearly growl, his expression remaining the same despite my barking tone.
“I know that. Christ, Kyler.” He rolls his eyes like I’m being dramatic. “But that right there—” He waves his hand at me. “That response is going to get you into trouble. People are going to see those photos, know they aren’t just two good friends enjoying a new family addition, and then throw accusations.”