Page 33 of The Wrong Proposal

I pout at him. “So maybe you don’t want me to come with you.”

“Girl, I am not leaving you to sit home another Friday night and listen to your roommate and her boyfriend go at it like rabbits.”

I laugh. “I’m used to it. Besides, I was gifted the best orgasm not so long ago.”

“You deserve to have an orgasm every night.” He shakes his head. “You can’t go a lifetime without sex by remembering one good fuck.”

“It wasn’t once.” I pull a face.

“Anyway, there is plenty of fish out there. You don’t live in an aquarium. It’s LA, baby.”

“Ugh. I have no interest when I’m this tired.”

He springs off the desk. “Meet at mine by eight. I’ll text Zara.”

* * *

When I arriveat Hugh and Sienna’s place, the television is on full volume in the background.

“Sorry.” He mutes it. “I was listening for updates on the East Coast weather while I dressed.”

“Your entire apartment block could hear it.”

He eyes me up and down and ignores me. “Well, don’t you look hot?”

I run my hands over my tight red dress. “It’s too clingy.”

“Trust me, it’s not. I sense an incoming orgasm.”

“Stop it. That’s not why I’m wearing it. I haven’t been to the laundromat in weeks, and I’m running out of clothes.”

Changing the subject, I notice there’s a bag in the corner of the living room. “What’s this?”

“Trash. Sienna and I cleaned out cabinets.”

I pick up a glass candle. “These are new.”

“Yeah. Sienna hates the scent.”

Focusis printed on it in cursive. I take a sniff, and it smells amazing to me. I pick up another and another—all new yet different scented candles.

“Do you mind if I take some?”

“Girl, you can have them all.” He shakes his head. “You know you can throw stuff out and not feel guilty. It’s a personal choice if you want something or not.”

“I know, but these are yours, and I have an idea to—”

“Penny, I don’t care if you take them and throw them away next week. If youneedto take it to make something…” he makes a circle with his hand around his chest, “… or whatever it is in your heart that motivates you to save everything, I won’t stop you.”

“I don’t do it to everyone.” I pick up some wooden beads and some string. “Your stuff is sentimental.”

Hugh chuckles. Then his eyes dart to the television, and he stills.

“What is it?” I turn, hoping it’s not bad news for Sienna, only there is an image of a middle-aged man with dark hair and streaks of gray. His dark eyes are familiar. “Who is he?”

“Your boyfriend’s father.” Hugh turns up the volume.

“Huh?”