Her outfit for the evening lay on the bed. Gary picked up the low-cut blouse and held it against his chest. Despite her inner turmoil Cat giggled at the sight of him posing with a clingy, silk shirt against his battered T-shirt. For good measure Gary pouted like Naomi Campbell in her heyday.
‘Cat, getting your bazookas out ain’t entirely sending Stewart an off-limits message. More like a green light to pass go and collect whatever you get in Monopoly money these days. Is it still 200 bucks or whatever? You’re worth a lot more than that, buddy.’
Cat didn’t feel she was worth much right now. She’d hurt Jamie, something she deeply regretted, Gary thought she was selling herself short, and Hattie wasn’t talking to her. Speaking of whom …
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