Page 119 of Say It Isn't So

“Enough,” I cut him off before he could make me want to wipe my brain clean with bleach.

* * *

“You’re not seeing it for what it is, man.” Noah tried convincing me a love triangle was actually a good thing after I’d brought him up to speed. “Most men would give their left nut to be in the type of situation you’re in.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up my bat, ready to start swinging as I stepped up and Noah slipped the first token into the machine. “How do you figure?” I asked as my bat connected with the first ball.

“Threesomes are hot,” he said off to the side.

Bam!Second hit. “No, just no. There will be no threesome.”Bam!Third hit. “Besides, the triangle kind of fell apart.”Thank goodness.And even if it hadn’t, I was not one of those men who’d be into a threesome. Not with Bianca. I couldn’t share her with anyone—another man, woman, or even a cat. No, after all the time I’d spent wanting her, she would need to be all mine.

He shook his head and smacked his lips as if to sayyeah, right. But he didn’t get it. “I’m not stupid. It’s still intact, but we can pretend. So indulge me, do the little ladies not get along?”

Understatement of the century. “Not necessarily.” I mean, seriously, could you see Bianca and Rina sharing a bed—with me? I’m cringing at the prospect. They’d rip each other’s hair out.

“Even better. Hate sex is the best. Trust me, I know. When Crystal and I are arguing, we reach new heights, if you catch my drift.”

I didn’t need that picture inside my head. “Everyone catches your drift. You can feel free to keep some things to yourself. As for my love triangle and the possibility of a threesome? That won’t be happening.”

“Suit yourself, but if I were you, I’d sleep with that Bianca chick sooner rather than later. Have you seen her?”

As the balls kept coming, my jaw tightened at him talking about Bianca that way. I knew it was just Noah and he meant no harm, but it still pissed me off. “Yes, I’ve seen her,” I ground out, a thunderous clap ricocheting off my bat as I hit yet another ball, perhaps with a little too much aggression behind it. That aside, I was on a roll today.

“Good, because for a second there I thought I might have to make you an appointment to see an optometrist.”

Definitely not. But if he kept this up, friend or not, he was going to have to see a doctor himself for a black eye. “The problem is, all I do is see her and I want her. Bad.” I tossed my bat down when the pitching machine came to a stop, my mind on the dream I’d had again. Man, was it a good dream. Too good. And definitely not something I should be thinking about at the batting cages.

Switching places with me, Noah picked up the bat and starting swinging at the air like he was some sort of pro, or an idiot who wanted to pretend he was a pro. Meanwhile, I put another token in the machine for him. “So pick Bianca.”

I shook my head. If only. “It’s not that simple,” I confessed.

“Seems simple to me.”

My hands on the netting, I leaned into it and watched as he got started. Let’s just say that took a few minutes—baseball was not Noah’s thing. Once he hit a rhythm, though, I explained, “Well, it’s not. Her father hates me and is so adamant about us being together that when Bianca told him we’d be dating, he actually fired her from their family business and she moved out. Hence the reason why she’s living with me now.”

“Oof. You should’ve called me before making the decision of having her move in. Living with a woman is not all it’s cracked up to be. Trust me, they pretend like it’s us that’s the problem, leaving the toilet seat up and socks on the floor, but no, it’s them.” He turned to me for a split second before eyeing the ball flying toward him, not that it helped since it flew right by him as he jumped to the side. “We have to experience everything with them and let me tell you, the mood swings are nothing to take lightly.”

I wasn’t sure why I wanted to talk things out with him. I should’ve known better after the video call we’d had in Paris. I had a feeling taking any advice from Noah was a bad idea. “Bianca doesn’t have mood swings and it hasn’t been bad living with her.”

“Ah, so you haven’t experienced PMS yet.”

“Not personally,” I said. Okay, I needed to stick to my gut and steer clear of Noah’s advice on this topic. He was getting way off track for my liking and frankly PMS was not something I wanted to think about.

He ignored me. “Oh, yeah, premenstrual syndrome.” He swung, but missed the ball. Again.

I exhaled. “Enough. I got it, and you need to concentrate.” And I couldn’t listen to this anymore. Or watch this, frankly.

Ignoring me, he continued talking, though—“Nah, it’s serious. It’s like some sort of demon takes over Crystal’s body and I’m the enemy. I’m telling you, I sleep with one eye open on those nights.”

“Maybe you should be more sympathetic to what she’s going through,” I tried.

“Sympathetic? Did you not hear me? I’m the victim, dude.”

And that should’ve been the end of today’s insanity. I tried to get the conversation back on track (had to if I had any hope of making sense of everything going on in my head)—“Okay, well, I still have no idea what to do about Rina and Bianca.” Ishook the netting as if to punctuate my statement.

Giving up, Noah dropped his bat on the ground and walked away as another ball came flying toward where he was supposed to be standing. “I hate this sport. I don’t know why I let you convince me this would be fun. Anyway, I think you do know what to do.”

Dodging another ball, I came around and reached for the bat to finish his set. “What’s that supposed to mean?”Bam! Have I told you how much I love baseball?

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