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Welp, that shuts me up. I might not have a pithy comeback, but I do want to know if he’s hooking up with someone currently. I’d rather poke out my eyes than ask. “Anyone I know?”
“I doubt it. What color is it?”
“What color is what?”
“The dress, Clara.”
“Why, are we going to be matchy-matchy?”
“If it’s black or white, yeah.”
Black tie, of course. “Well, it’ll be black.”
“They’re all black?”
“I’m with Coco Chanel. When I find a color darker than black . . .” I give a shrug.
“You look good in blue.”
Pleasure bursts inside me. Is he talking about my wedding dress?
Reframe: The dress I wore to our wedding of convenience.
“Thank you,” I almost whisper.
“Just sayin’ what’s true,” he replies gruffly. Maybe the sugar from the cereal is burning his esophagus.
I take a sip of my coffee. The machine was noisy again this morning, but that’s not where my mind is. “I had a call from my grandmother’s lawyers. My lawyers now, I suppose.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s been a snag with my trust,” I say, my brows knitting together. “An administrative error is delaying things.” At least, that’s what they’re saying.
He lowers his spoon and turns to face me. I make a conscious effort to keep my eyes up top. It’s no easy feat, given the whole topless situation. And I won’t be looking at the shorts that are more smoke screen than actual garment.
“Are you worried?”
“A little,” I admit, trying not to gnaw at my lip. “After everything, maybe it’s just hard to expect positive things.”
He nods like he understands. “You’re okay for money, though, right? Because I can—”
“It’s not the money,” I say quickly. Troy has already done too much on that front. “I can’t help but wonder, or worry, if the so-called administrative error is really something to do with my dad.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I didn’t say it sounded sane,” I murmur, turning the handle on my cup. “But it is born from experience.”
“Do you want me to go speak with him?”
My attention jerks up. “My dad? God, no.” My words hit the air all stuttery and harsh. If I were a religious woman, I’d probably cross myself.
“I would, no problem.”
“And I might let you if I thought it would help.”
But that would only make things worse.
Much worse.
