He nods, no doubt picturing the kind of ethnically ambiguous leggy model Lena would date. She has a reputation with them. Front row at Tom Ford during Fashion Week and somehow she manages to catch their eye. “Can she bring her?”

“Of course. She’s basically my maid of honor. She gets a plus-one even this late in the game,” I answer. “Though, your mother may feel otherwise.”

He flinches in his seat. Anytime anyone brings up his mother, his defense goes up. If he wasn’t fucking me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually started fucking her, they’re so obsessed with each other. “Why?” he asks. “She doesn’t have a problem with gays. She’s been to a gay wedding.”

I nod and resist the urge to let out a big, fat, disappointed breath. “Not because Lena’s gay,” I say, my head shaking at his denseness. “Because we’ve already put together the table assignments.”

“Oh.” He lets out a low laugh. “Right.” Yet another notch on the how oblivious to wedding planning can Graham be tally. “I’ll pack while you’re at dinner,” he offers, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I promise I’ll be done by the time you get back.”

I lean over and give him a kiss. I know that’s what he’s looking for. “That’s what you said about work today...”

“Well that...that was a lie.” He laughs. “Blatant and rude and I deeply apologize for leading you astray.” He wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes, pressing deeper and deeper into my rib cage until I can’t breathe. I don’t want him to stop.

“You look good, you know,” he says, before loosening up his grip, his hands wandering toward my breasts before I shake him off.

“If you actually pack, maybe I’ll treat you to something special when I get home...” Slowly, I push myself off his lap and let my dress fall into place, but not before giving him a nice view of the legs I pay good money to be tanned and hairless.

“Ugh,” he gripes, his head falling back against the tall leather chair. “Fine.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow, babe,” I say, moving toward the door. “You have to do it eventually.” I stop in the doorway. “Unless you’re having cold feet?”

His eyes thin. “First off, the plane leaves when we tell it to leave,” he says, genuinely oblivious to the pretention in his voice. Then, he pulls his legs up, resting his bare feet on the desk and crossing his ankles. He studies them, staring as he clenches and unclenches his long toes. “Second...they’re toasty, thank you very much.”

I laugh as I close the door, but the second the latch bolt clicks into place my smile is gone.

SIX

Five-Point Violations** (may include a $30 fine):

Use or possession of tobacco, e-cigarettes, or vapes