CHAPTER 19
“Who cares about a few years age difference? Look at Demi and Ashton. You’re what … forty?” Half-Smile grins at Lary.
She sits up in bed, cross-legged, sipping champagne directly from the heavy green bottle. “For … ty … sev …ix. I’m forty-six. And I’m so relieved you’re over thirty.” Lary runs a finger slowly down Gordon’s ski-tanned nose as he lays on his back beside her, his head pillowed on his interlaced hands.
They have met up every other Thursday for the last month and a half now; the same afternoons Nutella gets her body waxed and roots touched up. Mutually they agreed to only see each other at HarBay Estates and never outside, while excluding any idle chat about their personal lives, friends, and history.
It is more fun than Lary can remember, ever since the time she
