Page 69 of Tempt Me
As was the omelet. Why was it so lumpy looking? Telma’s never looked like this. Hoping for a culinary miracle, I sprinkled the onions and peppers down the center, picking out the scorched ones. I let it settle a minute as the edges peeled up, signaling they were overdone.
When I slid it onto the plate, it didn’t fold in the middle like Telma’s always did. It flopped. Then it cracked. I’d made not a perfect semicircle of fluffy deliciousness but a half-overdone, half-undercooked disaster.
“That’s what they taught you in culinary school?”
Jamila had observed the whole debacle. Of course.
“Maybe they would’ve covered omelets next semester. If I hadn’t dropped out.” I stared at the unappealing scramble on my plate for a moment, then I slid it into the trash. “I’ll eat fruit instead.”
Jamila dropped an arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay. I can’t even cut up an onion without slicing my thumb open. My chef drops off ready-to-heat meals at the start of every week. At least you tried.”
“I never cooked at home either. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t cut it at culinary school.”
“Hey. Hey.” She waited until I looked at her. “You left culinary school because of your soft, animal-loving heart.”
“I guess.” I stared into the cold, milky surface of my coffee. “Want to take our coffee to the patio?”
“Eh. Let’s stay inside. Going out on the beach yesterday was a risk. Wouldn’t want to tempt fate.”
“A risk? I only got a little sunburned.”
“No, baby. I mean, it’s a public beach. Someone might see us. Together.”
“But we are together. Right?”
“Baby.” Her mouth turned down. “I don’t do serious. Besides, what would my PR consultant say if my face got splashed all over Instagram alongside yours? You’re not exactly low-profile. We’d be right back where we started with the focus on my private life and not on the company, where it belongs.”
“You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Saying it, even twice, didn’t make me feel any better. I’d woken at her side unable to believe that I’d gotten exactly what I wanted and full of hope I could keep it. But that wasn’t how Jamila saw it. I was a fling, not worth the PR risk.
Jamila reached around me to pluck a couple of blueberries from the bowl of fruit. She popped one into her mouth. “Come on. You can give Quill one of these. It’s super-cute to watch him gnaw on them.”
Grasping my hand, she towed me to the bedroom where Quill.i.am’s habitat was set up.
He was awfully cute to watch. And when Jamila kissed me while I laughed, it seemed that everything might turn out all right.
“Bad news,”Hannah said as I floated into the office on Monday.
“What’s that?” I set down my laptop bag, my attention sharpening. Saturday and Sunday morning with Jamila were fantastic, but I had a job to do. Only a couple more weeks remained until the launch, and I had to hold everything together until then.
“Photos.” She tapped on her phone, and my phone buzzed in my purse. She’d texted me a link. I ignored my many social media notifications and clicked on the link.
“Photos of Jamila?” My stomach went ice cold. The first image showed her kneeling on our picnic blanket at the beach. The next one showed me sitting beside her, but the floppy hat hid my face. Yikes, I hadn’t realized how that bikini displayed the rolls around my middle. Jamila hadn’t said a word.
Horrified, I flipped through the rest of the images. Thankfully, whoever snapped the pictures hadn’t cared about getting my face. In each one, either my hat or Jamila’s obscured it. But in the last photo, they’d captured my hand on her knee. There was no mistaking the sexuality of the pose. Hannah pursed her lips and gave me a pointed stare. I admitted nothing. “No big deal. Jamila’s bisexuality is no secret. And look, there’s a ton of likes.”
“Likes give it more visibility, not social proof.” Before I could even dig into them, Hannah said, “The comments are a mix. Some people love that Jamila is living her best bisexual life, others condemn it at a family beach—”
“We weren’t doing anything!” I snapped. Then I cringed.
“Don’t do that with your face,” Hannah said. “You’re proud of your bisexuality just like she is. Maybe in the future, don’t let Jamila get snapped in a flirty pose with her employee, ’kay?”
Proud of my bisexualitywas a little more than I was comfortable with. What would Mother say if she saw these? She’d recognize me even without my face showing. She’d definitely recognize the ruby ring that glinted on my finger as it rested on Jamila’s knee. I twisted the band.
“Of course I won’t,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’ll be fine, as long as…shit.”
“What?” I looked down at my phone and saw that Pavel Thakor, CEO of Moo-Lah, whom I’d started to follow, had commented. I clicked to read it.
