Page 55 of Lilacs and Leather
“I missed you,” I whisper, holding her tight.
Finally, I feel her relax, and her arms coil around my chest in tight bands. She breathes deep, face snuggling into my shirt. I smile into her hair, preening internally at her affection.
“You’re home early,” she says into my chest.
“I found an earlier flight. It was only business class instead of first, but I couldn’t stand to be away from home any longer.” I laugh.
“Oh, no. What a travesty. Did you have to give up the masseuse, too?” she deadpans.
“These are the sacrifices I make for you,” I say with a fake sniffle.
Lydia laughs and snuggles closer to my chest. I close my eyes, just enjoying her closeness. I want to say more to reassure her, and I open my mouth to begin, but I’m interrupted as I feel a vibration against my thigh. We pull apart as Lydia pulls her cell phone from her pocket with an annoyed huff, but it shifts to a confused frown as she looks at the caller ID.
“It’s Wila. She wouldn’t be calling me on my day off unless it’s important,” she mumbles, finger hovering over theanswerbutton.
“Take it. I’ll put in an order for breakfast. Want anything specific?” I say, rubbing her upper arms a little.
“Pancakes and scrambled eggs?” she asks hopefully, looking up at me.
“Say no more,” I reply, leaning down to give her the briefest peck.
She’s blushing the most adorable shade of pink as she moves off to the sitting area, bringing her phone to her ear to answer the call. I move over to the kitchen island, pulling my phone out to put in the room service order. Mateo rejoins us a moment later, dressed in slacks, button down, and a sports jacket. He leans over the back of the couch Lydia’s sitting on to kiss her cheek before moving toward the elevator. The exchange makes something in my chest grow warm, especially when she smiles up at him.
Mateo and I have never really dated the same person before. It’s hard enough to find someone who’s willing to enter into a relationship with someone like me, who already has a committed relationship, let alone someone who catches Mateo’s attention and keeps it. We’ve always looked for different things in our partners. Mateo needs adventure, something to chase. He goes off on his own a lot, finding hidden gems wherever he goes, and needs someone who’s willing to go on that ride with him. I need stability, someone who I can dote on without them feeling smothered. But Lydia has surprised me yet again, and it makes my heart swell with affection for both her and my best friend. She really is someone special.
“New client meeting. They’re giving me a tour of their pre-Civil War era house they want to have restored before selling,” Mateo explains, cutting through my musings, buttoning his jacket while waiting for the elevator to open.
“Send me pictures and any info that’ll help my team,” I say with an excited smile.
Mateo nods as the elevator chimes. He looks back at Lydia once before giving me a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows and leaving. I roll my eyes, dialing the kitchen and placing a breakfast order for Lydia and me.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Lydia groans, flopping back on the couch.
My gaze snaps to her, shoulders tensing at the distress in her voice.
“Sorry, Gran. I just can’t believe—Yeah, go ahead and open it. I won’t be back in before Monday.” There’s a long pause as Lydia listens, her face draining of color with every passing moment. “Great. Just great… No, don’t toss it yet. I have to think…. Again, I’m really sorry, Gran…. Of course I do. I told her not to…. Okay…. Will do…. I won’t…. Okay. I’ll let you go. Thanks for letting me know.”
Lydia ends the call, her hand flopping onto the cushion next to her as she closes her eyes and lets out a long, heavy breath.
“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly.
“Is it too early to drink?” she asks back in a monotone.
“Mimosas exist for a reason,” I say with a shrug.
Lydia chuckles dryly, scrubbing her face. “When is food going to be here?”
“About thirty minutes. What’s going on, love?”
Lydia looks over at me, and the defeated look in her eyes takes me aback. “It’s a long story, and it isn’t pretty.”
“I’ve got time,” I say, walking around the island toward her.
She looks at me for a long minute, then rolls her head to rest it on the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. I cross to sit in an armchair next to her, resting one ankle over my knee. I let her sit in silence, even as every second that goes by twists my gut into knots. Her emerald eyes are dark and distant, and I can count the time she takes to inhale and exhale. Five seconds in through the nose, seven seconds out through the mouth.
“If you want to get rid of any airplane funk, go for it. I’ll wait for the food,” she whispers, the sound making me jump.
“Will you tell me where you went just now if I do?” I ask with deliberate gentleness.