“Your dad called,” Wallace cut in as I caught up. They were both standing there, bags at their feet, as if patiently waiting for us to finish.
“I know,” Ricky said, his words brittle. “And since when am I not allowed ten fucking minutes to call him back?”
“We weren’t interrupting,” CJ said. “We were going to give you time—”
“He needs us at the clubhouse,” Wallace said. “Something came up. Something urgent.”
Ricky’s jaw worked until he finally looked Wallace in the eye and said, in a deceptively soft voice, “Is it urgent, Wallace? Is it really?”
“That’s what he said, and that’s all he said. He called right after you left, so we came after you and saw you duck into the hallway here.”
“Oh, to be that young again.” CJ thumped Ricky on the shoulder. “We can give you two a few minutes. We’ll stand guard.”
“No,” I murmured. “That’s okay. Let’s go.”
Spontaneous sex in an airport was one thing. An efficient quickie really wasn’t the same.
Ricky let CJ and Wallace lead the way.
“I’m sorry,” he said when they were out of earshot.
“It’s okay.”
“No, goddamn it, Liv, it’s not. My father needed me to suddenly take his place on a trip to Miami, and I went, even though I knew damned well he was only testing to see if I’d complain about leaving you. Then yesterday, when you were sick, I checked to see if I could catch an earlier flight back and he said no. I didn’t argue. Now this? There’s no emergency. He’s snapping my leash. Yes, he’s not just my dad, he’s my boss, and I’ve always respected that. I don’t ask for special treatment or shirk my responsibilities—”
“I know that. He knows that.”
“Then why—” He bit the sentence off with a shake of his head. “You don’t need to hear me bitching ten minutes after I get back. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s frustrating.” A quick smile. “In more ways than one. But Don—and Gabriel—can test us all they like. Eventually, they’ll have to accept that we aren’t kids who’ll duck our responsibilities to sneak off together. We’ll wear them down.”
A short laugh, relaxing now. “Yeah.” He adjusted his grip on my hand, pulling me closer, our fingers entwined. “About tonight—as much as I would love to say I’ll see you in a few hours, that’s never worked out before. I don’t want you waiting up half the night only to hear that I won’t make it. I would like to see you for breakfast, though. Not for sex. Well, I won’t argue if we squeeze it in, but mostly just to hang out. I’ve missed you.”
I leaned against him. “Same here. Breakfast tomorrow.”
—
Ricky had recovered his mood by the time we reached the car. Yes, it was a car. Apparently, leaving their Harleys in airport parking would have violated club rules.
CJ joked that it was a big backseat. Ricky good-naturedly flipped him the finger, and we settled in. The plan was to drop me off at Gabriel’s condo. I called him at the start of the drive, but he was on the line, the phone going to voice mail, so I left a message.
At the building, Ricky insisted on taking me up, and I didn’t argue. If Gabriel had a problem with Ricky coming as far as the front door, he should have replied to my message.
Gabriel had to buzz me in, and he did so without comment, but when he opened the door and I saw his expression, I said, “You didn’t get my message, did you?”
He looked befuddled, as if we’d woken him from a nap. He took out his phone.
“Oh,” he said.
“Right. So, things came up. Ricky has to go, and I’m here.”
“This is the official handoff,” Ricky said. “I relinquish her to your custody. I’ll pick her up at seven for breakfast.” His smile faded as he studied Gabriel. “Unless tonight’s a problem . . .”
Gabriel snapped out of it. “No, of course not.”
“Then I should run,” Ricky said. “The guys are double-parked downstairs.” He glanced up at Gabriel. “We need to talk.”
Gabriel frowned.
“About that thing? The one we were discussing?”
“Oh, yes. Of course.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
Gabriel nodded.
Ricky took off to the still-waiting elevator.
“I don’t want to impose,” I said to Gabriel. “How about I catch a cab to my parents’ place? They have a top-notch security system, and I have my gun.”
It seemed to take time for him to process my words, and when he did, he blinked.
“No, of course not.” He realized he was blocking the doorway and backed inside.
There were papers spread across the living room table, along with his laptop and what looked like an untouched cup of coffee.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know this is inconvenient. Why don’t I just go into . . .”
I looked around the apartment. Living room. Bathroom. Bedroom. Kitchen and dining room. Closet. That was it. I was sure it was a million-dollar condo, but you were paying for the address and the view, not the square footage. Given how he’d cut me off from venturing into the kitchen this morning, my options for giving him space were limited.
“I could use a bath,” I said. “A long one. You keep doing whatever you were doing.”