The Trouble With Quarterbacks(85)

“Uh-huh.”

“Is that the reason you’ve phoned? To bother me?”

“Am I bothering you?”

No. Please never hang up.

“I suppose not.”

There’s a long pause, and then he sort of sighs like he’s exhausted. “I miss you, Candace.”

“Yes, well, that’s good. Maybe you’ll appreciate me more in the future then.”

“This is the last night,” he says, all confident.

“The last night of what?”

“That I’ll let you do this. I’m not going through the entire weekend without seeing you.”

“Well, sounds like you have your work cut out for you! Nice chatting. Talk soon!”

I hang up then stare down at the mobile, my stomach in knots.

I shouldn’t be so excited by his threat. I should be extremely worried about what he intends to do before the weekend is through.





Chapter Twenty-Five





Logan





I’m outside Jay’s apartment, about to go in. Before I do, I glance down at my clothes, assessing them like I’ve never cared to do before. I’m nervous tonight, on edge.

With a groan of annoyance, I force myself to knock on Jay’s door, and he shouts for me to come in.

In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never invited me over for a dinner party. There’ve been club outings, dinners at steakhouses, parties with models, sure. Tonight, I have no idea what he’s planning, but I know Candace will be here, so I didn’t hesitate to accept his invitation—even if it was sent over on formal letterhead.

His apartment is nice and ultramodern, lots of sharp edges and white furniture. Or at least it is usually…

Now, I notice feminine touches that weren’t here the last time I came over: a porcelain cat statue near the door, a little framed watercolor of a bouquet of roses, pink hand towels hanging on a hook in the hall bathroom. I peer in and see there’s also a new fuzzy pink mat near the sink.

I find Jay and Kat in the kitchen. They’re wearing matching aprons that say “Mr. Chef” and “Mrs. Chef”. There’s a crystal vase with roses sitting on the island. Jay’s wearing slacks and a pink shirt.

What the fuck have I walked in on?

“Logan! Hi! Lovely of you to join us,” Kat says, hurrying around the island so she can take the bottle of wine out of my hands. “Oh, a merlot! Perfect. We’re having steak, so this will go really well with dinner.” She turns back to Jay. “Sweetums, how are the potatoes coming?”

“They look good. Just a few more minutes, I think.”

I haven’t known Jay to cook. Ever.

I look behind me, worried I might have stepped into a twilight zone back by the door. There are candles lit everywhere, and soft jazz playing. Either he’s been abducted by aliens or he’s totally in love.

“Make yourself comfortable, Logan,” Kat says, patting one of the new paisley-print bar stools. “I’ll open this and let it air out.”

Right.

“Things between you two seem to be going well,” I point out.

Kat and Jay look at each other then reach their hands out to touch, as if the small distance between them is too much.

“They are. Aren’t they, Pookie?” Jay says.

Pookie?!

Kat blushes and nods in agreement.

There’s another knock on the front door, and Kat squeals. “That’ll be Candace!”

She hurries to answer it, and I lean forward.

“Jay, man…do you need help? Blink twice if you want me to call the police.”

He only laughs and shakes his head as if I couldn’t possibly understand how happy and in love he is.

I hear voices in the hall and turn to watch Candace walk in wearing a short sky blue dress and flats. Her blonde hair is down and straight, and her eyes seem to be even brighter than usual.

“What’s with the personalized doormat out front?” she asks Kat. “It has your name on it and everything.”

“Oh yes. Sweetums got me that for our anniversary.”

“Anniversary?” Candace asks with a confused frown.

“Yes. Our one-week.”

“Oh jeez. You’ve gone absolutely mad. And wait, did I just hear you say Sweetums?”

Candace finally notices me in the kitchen and stops dead in her tracks.

I smile.

She narrows her eyes.

I walk toward her and she stays stock-still, peering up at me skeptically as I approach.

“Hi Candace. You look lovely.”

I bend down to kiss her cheek, and she sucks in an audible breath.

“Logan. Hello. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“Surprised?”

“More than a little.”

“You look better. Did you have that doctor’s appointment today?”

I look down and see that the bandage covering her hand is gone and there’s a small Band-Aid in its place, where the cut must still be healing.

“Yes, but of course, you know that.”

“Pookie, could you come help me pour the wine?” Jay asks.

Kat skitters away, and Candace scrunches her face.

“Pookie?” she mouths at me.