42
Emma
All evening long, I’ve felt the urge to pinch myself to make sure I’m awake, because what are the odds that my billionaire hookup would accompany me to Brooklyn, help me with my laundry, and agree to spend the night in my tiny studio before having a pizza dinner at Papa Mario’s with me?
Next to none, I would’ve said before today.
Yet here we are, stuffed full of pizza, with me doing my best to make my old sheets look semi-decent—and cat hair free—by smoothing them with my palms while Marcus showers in my tiny bathroom before joining me in this very bed.
My phone dings with incoming texts, then starts ringing, and when I grab it, I’m not the least bit surprised to see that it’s Kendall.
“Well?” she bursts out the moment I pick up. “You never called back. What’s going on with y
