Chapter 34
34
Millie
Ezra and Kane don’t let me go back to my apartment the next night. Or the night after that. But by the third night, I’m officially behind in recording for LULU, and if I don’t get started on the audiobook for an indie romance I was hired to narrate, I’ll hate myself later. Ezra begs me to stay, which is tempting, especially when I envision him getting on his knees. Even so, I force myself to leave so I can tend to my responsibilities.
When I return to my apartment, Peg and Fran bring over a fresh plate of chocolate chip scones and their opinions. They gush about how much they enjoyed meeting Ezra and hope to see more of him, and they don’t hold back.
“Will he be moving in here, or will we have to say goodbye to another one of our girls?” They’re still upset with Joey for moving out, and I’m the one who has to suffer with the guilt trips.
“No one said anything about moving in.” Though the image of Ezra and I sharing a bed permanently has crossed my mind.
My plants are completely dead. All I can do is laugh about it. That’s one stereotype about being bisexual that stands true for me .
I record two erotic stories and an hour’s worth of the audiobook before my vocal cords raise a white flag. Just as I’ve settled into bed with a mug of lemon and honey tea and have cued up an episode of New Girl , my phone buzzes with a text from Stevie.
Stevie
Get your saucy ass back to the club
Me
Hi to you too
Stevie
I don’t have time for that shit. Sam is gone, and the girls want you back
Me
What? Gone?
Stevie
She moved back home. We miss you. Please say you’ll come back
I set my phone down. Sam wasn’t the only reason I avoided going back to FrenchSHEs. I was ashamed of my weight. When I worked behind the bar or hosted drag queen brunches on Sundays or sang karaoke, I wore tiny outfits that complemented my tight figure.
Apprehension swirls in my stomach, but there’s a hint of excitement there too. I pick my phone up again and tap out a response.
Me
I’ll think about it
Stevie
I put you on the schedule for this weekend. See you then, bitch
All night, I toss and turn, unable to put thoughts of my body and how different I look out of my mind. Eventually my thoughts wander to Ezra and how incredible he makes me feel. Logically I believe beauty comes from within, but when a person suffers from body dysmorphia, that cliché is a load of horseshit. One day I’m disgusted with my body, and the next I feel like a total bombshell. Sometimes the roller-coaster ride of confidence and impostor syndrome is too much to bear. But when I’m with Ezra, the ride is less roller coaster and more like riding It’s a Small World at Disney—slightly annoying, but steady and smooth, so I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up. He worships my body in ways I never imagined anyone could. And when I don’t love my body, he loves it enough for me.
The day before I return to FrenchSHEs, Claire joins me for a shopping spree. When she arrives, she’s flustered, and her wet hair is pulled into a topknot. We met through Joey and became fast friends, but between her schedule and mine, we rarely see one another.
“Sorry I’m late. I had a last-minute patient thrown in my schedule,” she huffs when she hugs me.
“That reminds me,” I say after she’s updated me on what’s going on at work. “Did you ever talk to my brother?”
“I did.” She pulls a bobby pin from the pocket of her overalls and uses it to secure the bangs that keep falling over the gold frames of her glasses.
“And? Are you considering the position?”
She lifts one shoulder. “The offer was very kind. But I haven’t been working for Dr. Edwards very long. I can’t quit on him.”
We fall into a rhythm where I hold up an outfit and Claire either nods in approval or scrunches up her nose.
“Oh my god,” she shrieks one aisle over. “This one. This one .” She pulls a silver sequined catsuit from the rack and drags me by the arm to the dressing room.
“It’s never going to fit,” I whine when I catch sight of the size.
With a lip stuck out, she pouts, much like my niece does when she’s trying to get her way.
“Fine.” I close the curtain, being sure to throw extra angst into the move.
While I stand in the middle of the small fitting room, hands on my hips, the spectacular jumpsuit taunts me from the hanger. You know you want me .
I do. I really, really do. But I cannot get stuck in my clothing in a dressing room again.
Do it for me, honey , Ezra’s voice sings in my head.
That’s enough to bolster my courage. So I take a deep breath and peel off my clothes.
When the stretchy material slides over my butt and hips with surprising ease, I gasp. And when I slip my arms through the holes and the fabric hugs my tits like a fitted sheet, I yelp.
“You okay in there?” Claire asks. “Let me see.”
Inspecting myself in the mirror, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
Call the fire department; I’m fucking hot .
When I drag the curtain open, I find Claire standing so close I nearly knock her over.
“Holy shit.” Her squeal causes every person in the dressing room to stick their head out to gawk. “I’m sending a picture to Ezra,” she says, retrieving her phone from her pocket.
“Wait. I want him to see it in person.”
Her eyes dance as she holds the device up to her face to unlock it. “Great idea. I’ll send it to Joey instead.”
I give her my best Mamma Mia poses for a solid five minutes before trying on a few more casual yet sexy outfits. After I’ve dropped nearly half my paycheck on a new wardrobe (that I’m praying I’ll make up for in tips this weekend), we head to a café nearby.
“Thanks for shopping with me,” I say as we take a seat side by side at a high-top by the window.
“Of course.” She drizzles dressing from a packet onto her salad. “I wish I could pop in and see you at the club, but I’m swamped with work.”
“Do you ever get a break? What’s your dating life like these days?”
With a huff, she stabs at a tomato. “Nonexistent.”
“So it’s not like Grey’s Anatomy ? No one is hooking up in the call room?”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“I have a question. It’s been on my mind for some time, but I’ve been too afraid to ask.”
“ Okay .” She swivels in her seat to face me. “You’re making me nervous, but go for it.”
“Have you and Ezra ever?—”
She lets out an unladylike snort and slaps a hand over her nose and mouth. “Absolutely not. He’s much too old for me.”
“Hey, we’re the same age.” I jab her arm playfully.
“So you like older men. I’m not judging.” She grins. “I was a kid when I met Ezra and he was already a man , you know?”
I conjure an image of an eighteen-year-old Ezra. Yeah, he was probably one of those boys to hit puberty at ten.
“He’s my brother’s best friend—and not in the cool, sexy romance books way. He was always like another big brother. Still is.”
The anxiety knotting my stomach eases. “That’s fair. Even if you had a history with him, I would have been okay with it.” It wouldn’t have been nearly as awkward as the weird love triangle we found ourselves in with Sam. Still, I’m relieved they’ve never had a romantic connection .
Claire has barely finished her salad when the alarm on her Apple Watch goes off. She attends an art class any time she can, so we share an Uber back to Washington Heights.
After she’s stepped out onto the sidewalk, she pokes her head back in and gives me a soft smile. “I haven’t seen you and Ezra together yet, but I’ve known him for over half my life and have never seen him this happy. Something tells me you have a lot to do with that.”
Between the time I get dressed and the time I step into FrenchSHEs, I collect enough boob sweat to fill a small fish tank, but it’s like I never left. The entire crew smothers me with hugs, including two new performers I’ve never met. Autopilot kicks in, and I quickly fall into the groove of things, blessedly and effortlessly feeling like myself again.
A little before midnight, Stevie’s voice comes through my earpiece. “Millie. You’re neglecting a customer.”
My stomach plummets. What? I scan the length of the bar. No one is leaning over the countertop, trying to get my attention, and every glass looks at least partially full.
“The high-top on your far right,” they say, voice tinny through my earpiece.
Huh? I’m behind the bar tonight. That’s not my jurisdiction. I crane my neck, scoping out the scene, then bark out a laugh.
“You bitch,” I tease.
The customer sitting on the stool is certainly not neglected.
Even so, I saunter that way, beaming. “What are you doing here?”
Stevie is suddenly at my side, shooing me out from behind the bar with a wink.
Like a magnet, my body is drawn to Ezra’s. I settle between his legs, and he engulfs me in his strong arms.
“I missed you,” he says into my sweaty neck.
I pull back, soaking him in. His curly hair is down and styled, smelling like eucalyptus, but his beard is slightly overgrown. His light purple shirt hugs his biceps, while his jeans are doing something pornographic to his thighs.
Heat gathers in my core as I pan the club to see if anyone else is observing how goddamn good he looks.
With his hands at my waist, he asks, “Should I have not come?”
“No, no, it’s not that.” I knead his shoulders and reassure him with a smile. “I just didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“What happened to that disco ball catsuit I heard so much about?”
“Oh, so you talked to Claire?” I laugh. “That’s for special occasions. Tonight, I’m just working behind the bar.”
Nevertheless, he gives me a thorough once-over, his eyes shining with so much lust I’m nearly blinded. My brand-new black leather mini skirt hits my waist in the perfect place, and I’ve paired it with a shimmery gold crop top. Ezra plucks at the strings in the back like he’s playing a guitar, his fingertips against my bare skin soothing me.
“You’ll have to give me a private fashion show when we get home, then.” He smirks.
“Home?”
He drags a hand around to my ass and squeezes. “Kane’s at a friend’s tonight. I’m all yours.”
My insides vibrate, and I bounce on my toes. He hasn’t spent the night at my place yet.
“If you don’t like that idea, I can see if Peg and Fran want a sleepover instead.”
“You’re not their type.” I chuckle .
He rears back, feigning offense, but the look is quickly replaced by one dripping with need. Angling in, he sinks his teeth into my neck. “There better be coffee behind that bar because you’re going to be up all night for what I have planned for you.”