Lottie nods. Keeping her eyes on me, she says, “Yes, we’re dating.”
“Babe, we’re more than dating.” I take the ice cream from her and then lift her hand, showing off her massive engagement ring. I give it a kiss and say, “We’re getting married.”
“What?” Angela nearly shrieks. “Since when? You never said anything to me, Lottie.”
I turn toward Angela and, with a smile on my face, I say, “We’ve been busy. Isn’t that right, babe?” I lean over and kiss the side of her neck.
Lottie’s grip on my leg tightens as she says, “Yeah, very busy. But, yeah, we’re engaged.”
“I see, well . . . can’t say that I’m not hurt you didn’t tell me.”
Wow, she has some fucking nerve.
“That’s what happens when you sever ties with your best friend, Angela. They take that as a sign to move on.” Lottie smiles at me and offers me the ice cream again so I can take another mouthful. “I’ve moved on.”
Angela steps back, hand to her chest. “Lottie, you’re being so cruel. And here I was, coming over to see if you wanted to have lunch with me sometime.” Oh, what a load of bullshit. “We really miss you at the company. Maybe we can figure something out. Especially now that you’re dating Huxley Cane, we could partner up.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Lottie’s jaw clench. Her anger’s spiking, and I’m seeing another side of her. Sure, I’ve made her angry, but those conversations we’ve had almost seem superficial now, compared to this. This is true anger. This is from the pit of her stomach.
And I can see her wanting to jump down Angela’s throat, which will do nothing for Lottie, so I stop it before it can happen. “We’re actually late for a meeting, babe.” I slip my arm off her shoulder and instead take her hand. “I’m sure Angela doesn’t mind catching up with you some other time.” I give Angela a look.
“Oh, of course not,” she says easily. “Don’t let me keep you. But I’d love to chat at some point, Lottie. I miss you. And you know how busy I am. Give the reunion some thought. It needs a nice Lottie touch to it.” She twiddles her fingers at Lottie and then heads into the ice cream shop.
Lottie stays silent as she sits there, holding the ice cream, but not saying a thing. Not even moving.
Unsure of what to do, I say, “So, that’s Angela?”
Lottie stands and hands me the ice cream. “Can we leave now?”
“Yeah, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” she says, and for the first time since I’ve known her, I take her hand in mine not because I’m putting on a show, but because I think she needs it.
The clanging of spoons in our soup bowls is the only sound in the dining room. The silence is so deafening that if someone walked in, they’d think they were walking in on a funeral.
A funeral for my self-respect.
Lottie hasn’t really said anything to me since we left the ice cream shop. She doesn’t seem mad, more . . . contemplative. Probably regretting her decision-making, like I am.
I still don’t know what kind of class that was. I know Los Angeles is slightly different than other cities, but dry-humping in front of strangers while envisioning burying your seed . . . that’s a little much.
And because it was so weird, so off-base, I have no idea what to say to Lottie. Should I apologize? Should I ask her if she liked it? Should I sign us up for another class? Should I bring up Angela again?
“How is the soup?” Reign asks, coming in with a basket of biscuits.
“Delicious,” I say.
“Really good,” Lottie adds. “Are those homemade biscuits?”
“Yes,” Reign says. “Chive and cheddar.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Lottie says as she plucks one from the basket, smiling. Okay. She’s in better spirits than when we left the ice cream store.
So, I decide to test my luck with her.
“Do you want to talk about what happened with Angela?”
Her eyes flash to mine. “No.”
“Because it seemed like—”
“I said no, Huxley,” she snaps at me.
Okay, noted. Doesn’t like talking about Angela. Got it. I try a different approach.
“Dave told me Ellie was hoping you’d go shopping with her sometime. For baby items.”
She doesn’t look at me, not even a small glance. “She said she wanted to get fitted for breast pumps.”