I start to laugh but he immediately consumes the sound of it, his mouth coming back over mine.

“I think I made a mess on your comforter, though.”

I pull away, feeling down between us. “My bed is like, ‘What is this substance?’ ”

He laughs hoarsely into my neck, and just when I start to worry whether I’ve just sounded too . . . single, he says, “Yeah, me too.”

“You’re insanely hot. I don’t believe you haven’t been with someone recently.”

“And you’re gorgeous. The lack of opportunity isn’t why we’re single.”

I nod, looking up at his face. “It’s been suggested that I’m picky. And maybe a little work-obsessed.”

He laughs again at this, bending to kiss me. “I just think we both need something else to look forward to every day.”

chapter six

carter

Saturday night, Michael Christopher and I have been put in charge of food prep, which is just code for me doing the cooking and Michael keeping Morgan from pulling out every pot and pan in the house. He’s at the table and she is happily pelting him in the face with Cheerios.

Steph comes in, carrying with her the scent of freshly cut grass, and a rush of cool air slips in through the door behind her. Although it’s the weekend, she’d gone into work when a huge up-and-coming actor landed himself in jail. It reminds me of what Evie said about being married to her job, and I know this kind of thing—the late nights and missed dinners—is exactly what she meant.

She looks at us, impressed with the dinner spread, and sits down. “Wow.” She doesn’t even have to ask to know how it all materialized in front of her. “Well done, Carter.”

“It’s nice to cook in an actual kitchen with actual cookware.”

Steph gives me a sympathetic smile while MC glares at me, envious.

“So how’ve you been?” Steph asks.

“Busy. Emil Shepard is moving to my list and it’s creating a little paperwork headache in-house.”

She winces. “Oh God. Is Blake losing his mind?”

“You’d think so. But honestly, he barely blinked.” I shrug and spear a piece of chicken for my plate. “Maybe he’s getting laid. Old Blake would have ripped off my legs and beaten me with them.”

“There’s something in the air. It has been such a shit show of a day.” Steph cringes, glancing to Morgan. “Oops! Earmuffs, baby!”

We all wait in tense silence, wondering whether Morgan is going to gleefully sing out the words shit show! It’s happened before with dammit, motherfucker, and asshole.

This time, she refrains.

Relieved, Steph turns back to me. “How was your date?”

MC perks up. I take a bite of my dinner and chew while I think, hoping my face doesn’t betray me. My heart jolts noticeably when I think about last night. I haven’t had this kind of physical reaction to a woman in years.

“It was great,” I say. “She’s just . . . she’s fu—” I glance at Morgan midsentence. “Fu-reaking great.”

“Great,” Steph agrees slowly, with a smile to match her tone. She watches me like I’m going to elaborate, but in reality what more can I say? I want things with Evie to go somewhere, and I really think that they can. It’s why I told her I didn’t want us to have sex yet, even though I really, really wanted to.

“She was similarly bare bones on details.” Stephanie stabs her chicken with a fork. “You’re both brats.”

“Am I supposed to tell you about our first kiss during study hall?”

She shoots up, eyes glimmering. “You guys kissed!”

“All right, crazy.” Michael puts his hand on her forearm. “Let’s not scare the nice boy away. They’ll tell us what they want us to know when they want us to know it. I mean, at the very least they’ll remember who brought them together when they’re deciding who’s best man at their wedding.”

“Is this what happens when you’re married with kids?” I grin at each of them in turn. “You have nothing to do but pair everyone off?”

On cue, they both lean in, voices erupting in unison.

“We haven’t slowed down.”

“We have a crazy social life!”

Morgan, who clearly finds the synchronized outburst cause for celebration, blows bubbles in her milk until it’s foaming over the sides.

“No, no,” I say, “full of youth. Of course. But you’re also sort of . . . settled.”

“ ‘Settled’?” Steph scoffs. “Please. We”—she points between the two of them—“are crazy. We can party with the best of them. Trust me.”

“You still hit the clubs sometimes?” I give them an encouraging nod.

“Of course we do.” She points to her arm and after a bewildered moment, I realize she’s wordlessly reminding me that she has a flower tattoo, and that people with tattoos are obviously likely to be found at clubs. “There’s this place called Foxtail that’s so cool. You should definitely take Evie there.”

“Or he could take her to Orchid, right, Steph?”

“That place is pretty good,” she agrees. “Craft cocktails, right? Or there’s that other one.” She snaps her fingers as if this will help her recall the name.

“Areola,” Michael finishes for her. “Now that place”—he whistles—“that place is insaaane,” he says, dragging the word out into about four syllables.

Steph is nodding.

I have to ask: “There’s a club called Areola?”

“Oh yeah, it’s like—the hippest place in LA,” she says. “Oh.” She deflates a little. “No, babe, I think it’s not Areola, that’s a nipple, right? I think it’s Ariela?”

“I mean, that’s a pretty big difference,” I note with a serious nod.

“Ariela,” Michael agrees, laughing as he avoids my gaze.

“Have you two gone?”

“Us? Come on,” MC says with a tight cough like of course we have. “We—well—no. We wanted to, but they don’t even open until like nine? I think, babe? Is it nine?” Steph nods as she attempts to extract crushed garbanzo beans from Morgan’s hair. “And that’s . . . that’s really late. I mean, not for us, but you know, for Morgan.”