“Well,” I say, “I guess I’d better tell my buddy we’re on our way—he’s waiting for us at the gala. Excuse me.” I pull out my phone and text Henn: “I bagged the babe. She said YES. Fuck yeah! Exit The Asshole’s system now.”
“Congratulations!” Henn writes back. “I’ll leave without a trace.”
I look up at Garrett. “Okay, my buddy says he’s gonna quit working now.” I look at Maggie. “A mutual friend of ours from school. Great guy. A computer specialist. He says he’s leaving work right now to meet us at the gala.”
There’s a very awkward silence. Clearly, Maggie doesn’t know why the fuck I’m telling her this bit of information.
“Okay,” she says awkwardly.
“Well, we’ve definitely taken up enough of your time,” I say, grabbing Kat’s hand and pulling her toward the limo. “Come on, Whitney—time to party, honey.” I kiss Kat’s cheek. “Have I ever told you you’re reallyfun?”
Kat giggles. “Yes, you have.”
“Well, you are. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s one of the greatest qualities any man could ever ask for in a wife.”
Thirty-Nine
Kat
I lean back from the table as our private butler clears our plates from dinner and then disappears through French doors leading back into our suite.
“Are you chilly?” Josh asks. He stands, obviously intending to remove his tuxedo jacket for me.
“No. I’m good. It’s still pretty nice out. Great idea to eat out here on the patio.”
“I wanted to take full advantage of the view in the moonlight.”
I look out at the dark Pacific Ocean glimmering in the moonlight beyond the cliffs. “Yeah, this view is absolutely spectacular.”
“I was talking about you.”
“Aw.” I bat my eyelashes. “Sweet-talker.”
“You really are gorgeous, Kat. You take my breath away.”
“I guess complete happiness looks good on me, huh?”
“You sure you’re not cold?” Josh asks. “It’s getting a bit chilly out here. I don’t want you to catch cold.”
“I’m fine. The kumquat must be some kind of internal furnace—I’m never cold these days.” I look down at the sparkling rock on my finger and the convertible Porsche on my wrist and touch the beachside condo around my neck. “Plus, it’s amazing how lots and lots of ice keeps a girl toasty warm,” I add.
Josh laughs.
The butler approaches the table. “Are we ready for dessert?” he asks.
“Yes, that’d be great,” Josh says. “Just bring us a sampling of your best stuff. And I’ll have some Sambuca, too.”
“Very good, sir. Madame?”
I touch my belly. “No Sambuca for me. Just a decaffeinated cappuccino would be great.”
“Very good,” the butler says, and leaves.
“This is so fun,” I say, giggling. “I guarantee you, if Sarah were here, she’d be calling that poor guy Jeeves all night long.”
Josh smiles. “And singing that Iggy Azalea song.”
I sing the chorus from “Fancy.”
