“I’m thinking we should have chosen a table inside,” Lauren said, rubbing her arms to work off the chill that had settled there.

I nodded in agreement. “I guess that’s why they had immediate tables open out here.”

“Lucky us.”

“Oh well,” I replied. “Nothing a little coffee won’t fix, and at least we’ll get back to the office in an hour.”

“Very true,” she sighed, leaning her slight frame back in the seat.

She was dressed warmly today in heavy dark wool pants and a fashionable cashmere sweater. Even in the bulky fabrics, she still appeared glamorous and sophisticated, her buttery-gold hair pulled back into a simple but elegant bun, while mine was just hanging loose and lifeless.

“So, how are you? You weren’t exactly in the best frame of mind the last time we met,” Lauren asked.

I slowly sipped on my glass of water, wishing it were something hot and caffeinated. The restaurant was slammed. Most places in this area were at lunchtime. It was why I usually just took Roman up on his offer and ate in the office.

But sometimes, I just needed to get out.

Away from work.

Away from him and all the confusion he brought.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “One minute, I think I’m okay, and the next, I’m not. I didn’t exactly envision my life going this way when I moved out here.”

“Have you talked to Tyler?”

Have I talked to Tyler?

What a loaded question.

My mind flashed back to the moment when he’d crawled in bed, smelling of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke.

I flipped on the lights, abruptly turning around.

“What the hell?” he groaned, his eyes squinting at the sudden onslaught of brightness.

“Where have you been?” I asked, looking him up and down for some sort of clue. I didn’t know what I expected to find. A giant sign on his forehead that proclaimed all of his horrible crimes in plain English?

“I had a thing with work. I told you about it,” he replied lamely, collapsing down onto the mattress with an exhausted grunt.

“Since when do your work things include women hanging all over you?”

“What?” His eyes popped open.

Well, at least now I had finally gotten his attention.

“You smell like a brothel.”

“A brothel? What the hell, Cara? This isn’t the 1800s. We don’t have brothels anymore. Grow up.”

That hurt. I swallowed my pain, sticking my chin out in defiance. “You would know.”

“Look, not everything I do for work is exactly classy, okay? Until I’m higher up, I do what the clients want. That’s how it works. I’m pretty much a gopher. Some want expensive restaurants. Others want to go to the clubs. Tonight, the guys wanted to go to a strip club, so that’s what we did.”