Page 61 of Lemon Drop

“You did all this?” I asked.

“Yeah. Arranging the flowers was a little hard—a nigga can’t ever remember how to place that damn baby’s breath,” he said.

My eyes narrowed. “Saadiq.”

“Girl, you know I paid somebody to do all this.”

I laughed. “At least you honest.”

“Mostly.”

Dinner was delicious but relaxed. I enjoyed the grilled lobster, vegetables, and potatoes. My favorite dish was the light lemon dessert—not because of the flavor, but because he spoon-fed it to me. We talked and argued about nothing important, which I was discovering was my favorite way to spend time with him. The office was always so busy that it was nice to have these moments with just us.

After the chef disappeared, Saadiq leaned back in his chair.

“Remember our bet?”

I pasted on an innocent look. “Nope.”

He chuckled. “Liar.”

“You cheated,” I reminded him, convincing myself that it didn’t sound like a whine.

“How?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

“By being six-five, Saadiq. Damn!”

“So, now my genetics cheating?”

“They are in swimming.”

His grin widened. “You said the winner got to decide what we doing tonight.”

My nose wrinkled as I studied him. “We ate. That’s it, right?”

“Dinner is a necessity, Apple, not a bet payoff.”

I huffed out an exasperated breath. “So, what did Your Majesty decide?”

Suddenly, he looked entirely too satisfied with himself. “Truth or dare.”

I stared at him. “You know you almost forty, right?”

“I’m thirty-three.” He sounded scandalized.

“Exactly. Ancient.” I accented that with an eyeroll.

“Shorty, you twenty-nine.”

“And will be for at least ten more years,” I said, smoothing a hand over my hair modestly.

“You got about eight months before your knees start hurting, too, especially the way you dropped to them last night.”

I gasped. “Saadiq! Fuck you.”

His mouth curved. “We’ll probably get there, too.”

“This game is already over.”