It seemed like he was there every day she worked, and she worked almost every day. Nick couldn’t help thinking Mark’s business must be going to hell, as much time as he was spending away from it. He was some kind of lawyer, but not necessarily a dream date. “He’s starting to make me uncomfortable,” Coco told Nick one afternoon. “Like way too possessive, you know?” She didn’t stop seeing him, though. Have it your way, babe, Nick thought as he watched her guide Mark into the master bedroom, his eighth visit in the few weeks she’d worked there. Or was it the tenth? Whatever the number, it fed a feeling that Nick couldn’t deny. He was jealous. A little bit anyway. It was probably why he had such an easy time remembering Mark’s name. Mark was the competition, even if Nick was the only one who knew it. He wanted Coco for his own, the way he had her in his imagination. At first he wrote it off to physical attraction: the shimmering black hair that hung down her back, the chimes that rang in her laughter, the eyes that made him think of teardrops.
