Page 69 of Forgotten Romance

I can either ignore it, or I can check and hope that it’s a platonic message full of totally bro type of, umm, things. A Merry and Pippin of notes, if you will.

I brace myself and pull out the scrap of paper, gaze scanning over the words and gut slowly collapsing out through my ass.

Bilbo didn’t give up. And neither will I.

Well, fuck.

That doesn’t sound good.

Either this is from Luke and I really, really misjudged the man.

Or it’s from someone else and I’m going to end up in their basement somewhere.

I pull out my desk drawer and stow that note on top of the others, reasoning that this could be a very old note, and maybe I’ve been too distracted to notice the book sitting there before today. If Luke left it before our date, that’s totally not a single problem. Probably.

Focusing on work doesn’t come easily for the rest of the day.

21

Davey

“Good morning,” I call out to Art as I cross Killer Brew. I’ve already dropped the kids off, and Mack is at work, so I’m free to commit third-degree murder if it comes to it. “I’m giving you a choice. Either I kill you for getting in my husband’s head about me sleeping with other men, or you help me. You have until three to answer. One … Two …”

“Hold up,” Joey says. “Why are you killing Art? What did he do?”

“He told Davey he should find someone to hook up with because that’s what I would be doing.”

Joey turns his glare on Art. “I wish this surprised me.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?”

“You could have asked,” I point out.

“Sure. I’m going to say, ‘Hey, Davey, who’ve you fucked lately?’”

“You say that like it isn’t a standard opening for you.”

At least he has the good sense to look sheepish.

Joey looks torn. “Are you upset that he slept with someone? Because even though Art’s a dumbass, I don’t think you can blame him for that.”

“No. Thankfully, Mack didn’t sleep with anyone. And neither did I. But he was hurt because he thought I did.”

Joey pulls the dish towel from his shoulder and whips Art across the ass with it.

“Fucking ouch!” he cries. “But also … do it again.”

“Don’t do it again. Die or help? Two and a half … thhhhh?—”

“Fine. I’ll help.” Art’s handsome face morphs into something that might look like disappointment if his eyes weren’t so amused. “You don’t need to threaten me. I’ll do it anyway.”

“This way was more fun for me.” I settle on the stool, and Joey pours me a Coke.

“You’re paying for that,” Art says as I take a sip.

Joey winks. “I’ve got it. Art loves when I buy other men drinks.”

He huffs but comes over to sit next to me. “What do you need help with?”

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