The city is falling away from us the further he drives and my interest is piqued.
“I’m taking you on a real date,” he tells me with a lazy grin.
My face is inquisitive when I turn to look at him full on. He can read the questions on my face because he drops a small hint.
“I hope you like seafood.”
***
I should have known that a typical seafood restaurant wasn’t in our future. No, we’re sitting on a yacht in the middle of the Greenwich Harbor, enjoying a spread specially prepared by a chef friend of Andrew’s named Marco.
The sun has just started its evening descent and the reflection splayed across the water is breathtaking as I look at it from the deck of the yacht.
We’re the only two occupants aside from the wait staff and I haven’t been able to wipe the contented grin off my face since we pulled up to the docks. Uncontrolled excitement ebbs through me like torrents of electricity making me feel more alive than I have in quite some time.
Leave it to Andrew to turn a simple meal into an event.
His spontaneity is beginning to spoil me. Every outing seems like a big adventure.
I devour the buttery lobster with gusto, savoring every delicious bite. It’s a lot better than the peanut butter and jelly I had waiting for me at home. After our meals, Andrew and I start chatting.
I’ve just finished a funny story about a misadventure Charli and I had last summer on a road trip gone wrong. The story is long-winded and my words are overly animated, but I have to give it to Andrew because he sits through it all with rapt interest on his face.
Sipping chilled Riesling from my wine glass, I watch him across the table. He has a heartwarming smile on his face and I get the idea that he’s up to something.
“What?”
“I want to meet her,” he shares.
Chuckling, I can only imagine how that meeting will go. Charli will probably grill him from the second I introduce them.
“Come to the Hamptons with me.”
My head spins from the rapid change in topic and I know my eyebrows nearly touch my hairline as I absorb his invitation.
“What?” I sputter, setting down my glass. “Right now?”
“No, Cupcake. Not tonight,” he laughs.
I’m glad he finds my reaction so amusing because I’m feeling frazzled. He wants to go away with me? Already?
And to the Hamptons of all places. I take another gulp of wine. I can’t help but think I’ll be a fish out of water.
“It’s somewhat of a tradition of mine to spend Independence Day there. Some of my buddies will be in town this year and I want you there, too.”
“Tell me more,” I prompt, using my hands to prop up my chin.
My interest escalates when he tells me it’s a five-day trip and that we’ll be staying at one of his properties for the duration.
“Of course Charli is welcome. We’ll have fun,” he says jovially.
Now I’m warming up to the idea. With Charli by my side, I won’t feel so out of place.
“I’d love to.”
Twenty-six
ANDREW
“What the hell has gotten into you?” Gabriel asks as we make our way back to my house after a six-mile run around Montauk.
My longtime friend is feeling blindsided by the fact that I’ve invited Lilah on this trip and I can’t say I blame him.
“You’re bringing sand to the beach,” he puffs out still trying to catch his breath.
I stare at him amused by his obvious annoyance. I waited until the end of our run to sneak in the fact that I’d be having a guest for the long weekend and that he’d be surfing for chicks on his own.
“And since when can you tolerate a girl for more than a few seconds?” he quizzes, posing a question that I really don’t have an answer to.
That night on the yacht words just started falling out of my mouth unchecked and I can’t even blame it on being drunk. I should have left well enough alone after achieving my goal in her apartment that night.
But the body wants what it wants. At least that’s what I tell myself because it’s the most comforting. I’ve developed an appetite that only Lilah has the ability to satisfy, leaving me weak to resist her pull on me.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly, using the towel tucked into the waist of my shorts to dry the sweat on my face.
“She’s put a spell on your ass, that’s what. I’ve never seen you with a chick for more than one night,” he continues as we make our way up the residential area leading to the more sprawling estates.
It’s easy enough to ignore him until he takes his final jab.
“I can’t believe it,” Gabriel grumbles in awe. “You’re pussywhipped.”
“Watch it,” I warn as my beach house comes into view. I spot an unfamiliar Range Rover in the driveway and assume it must belong to Lilah’s friend, Charli.
When I stop walking, Gabriel has no choice but to do the same. I take a moment to size him up. He’s a couple inches shorter than my six-foot-three-inches but still tall by most standards.
I’ve known him since I was a kid but we only became close once our parents shipped us off to Columbia University ten years ago. His business degree made his dad a lot prouder than the fine arts degree I showed my parents on graduation day.
Now, he spends his days as an executive for his father’s marketing empire in the City. But our friendship had always remained solid no matter the different paths we took in life.
“Look,” I say, kicking at the gravel under my running shoes. “Just act like you have some sense when we get in there. Her friend is going to be here too and I don’t need you scaring them off.”
Looking amused, Gabriel shakes his but agrees while clapping me on the
