I smile at the screen.“Not going to lie, y’all. I’m feeling this outfit.”
Before I end the live, I scan the incoming comments to answer a few questions.
“Let’s see… Yes, I’ll give you all a little update after the date. The lipstick is Red Dahlia by Diva Dolls. And yes, I’ll be including all the links in my shop by tomorrow.”
I keep scanning, thanking everyone for all the love, and skipping past theLuxe Ladiesquestions because there’s zero chance that I’m letting them ruin my night.
I’m just about to thank my viewers for getting ready with me tonight and remind them about the private mixer Leslie scheduled for me in August when my finger hovers over the most recent comment…from Bridges Heritage Conservation.
Breathtaking.
You good?Whit mouths from my periphery.
I jerk back, forcing an unnaturally wide smile. “Mm-hmm, yup, yeah… So, that’s it. Thanks for getting ready with me.”
Except maybe I should’ve asked them to wish me luck, because at exactly seven thirty p.m., I walk into the Golden Olive with my heart in my stomach. The hostess escorts me to the table, and either my mind is playing tricks on me, or my date—I can’t be sure yet, since I haven’t counted his fingers—looks like a disturbingly asymmetrical, AI-generated version of Lincoln Bridges.
It’s a disaster.
Chapter Twelve
Old Flames, New Sparks
Lincoln
I’ve been on the latpull-down machine for the last ten minutes, earbuds in, game face on, really concentrating on isolating my muscles and releasing the tension with each chest press. Or, at least, I’m trying to.
It’s a bit difficult to manage a solid, closed-grip lift when my guys are on either side of me, and Dom can’t seem to talk about anything other than the divorcétante.
“Seriously, I’m trying to focus here.” On the last set, I felt the stress in my rotator cuff. It’s getting dangerous.
“All I’m saying is—”
“Please, I’m begging you…” I tilt my head, stretching my neck as I try to stay centered. “Say less. She’s dating, planning events, dealing with the Livingstons of the world. Believe me, I see her daily, so I’m aware.”More than I’dlike to be.
Josiah tosses us an exasperated look from his machine, mid-set on a behind-the-neck pull-down. I think we’re both tired of replaying this same episode.
“And before you say anything else, Dominic Owens…” I shoot him a pointed stare. “She hasn’t been ‘fighting it the whole time.’ Iknowfor a fact because I’ve been playing it by ear—observing, waiting to see how she acts. And if I’m taking my cues from her, it couldn’t be clearer that I need to finally move on.”
“Finally,” Josiah grunts, straining to pull down the bar.
“Ahhhhh…” Dom points and gawks. Honestly, if he didn’t have at least two chaotic rebuttals lined up, I’d be worried about him.
Josiah and I chuckle, both of us waiting to see what’s inspired this outburst.
And then Dom steals the air from my chest.
“You watched her date night Get Ready with Me video.” His face is a mask of pure, smug exuberance. “And don’t think I didn’t see Bridges Heritage’s comment.”
Damn.
At that, Josiah releases his grip on the bar, letting the weights drop with a thunderous crash. “He commented?”
“Mm-hmm.” Dom grins from ear to ear, turning to Siah. He lowers his voice dramatically, purring, “Breathtaking.”
I knew I shouldn’t have commented.
I let out a long sigh, dragging a hand over my beard. “It was a simple compliment.”
