Page 20 of Choosing Skyler

“Where’s what?” Skyler asks him, looking as confused as I am.

“My omelet. You sent me a picture of a Brady omelet almost an hour ago. Where’s mine? I don’t care if it’s cold,” he replies, a little breathless.

Skyler crosses her arms across her chest. “I did not send you a picture of aBradyomelet. That was a bona fide Skyler omelet. Thank you very much!” She huffs.

Uh oh, Devon is in for it.

“Uh huh, sure. Really, where’s mine?” he says again, looking at me and rubbing his hands together.

“We used the last six eggs for ours, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming home for lunch,” I tell him, trying to diffuse the fight that is about to go down.

“Aww man!” he whines like a five-year-old. “Really, Sky? Why would you do that to me? My mouth has been watering for that damn omelet for the last half hour. You owe me afternoon snacks this week, remember?”

Skyler looks down like she did something wrong, and I’ve had enough.

“Whoa, Devon. Chill the fuck out, man. She sent you that picture because she made that omelet herself and she was proud of it. She thought you’d be proud of her too. Instead, you’re whining like a damn crybaby. What the hell is wrong with you today?” I ask him.

He glances at me, shocked at my outburst before he looks at Skyler and his face pales at her downcast eyes. He wraps her in a bear hug.

“Oh, Sweets. I’m an asshole. I don’t know what I was thinking. That omelet just looked so damn good. You really made it? Like, flipped it and everything?” he asks her, and she nods. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m having a day, that’s all. Please don’t be upset.”

She seems appeased at his half assed apology, but I’m not.

“Well, don’t come in here being a dick to us just because you’re ‘having a day’,” I snap at him.

“You’re right, man. I’m sorry,” he says, chagrined. “I’ll just grab something at the food court before I have to go back to work. You okay, Sky? I really am sorry,” he says seriously.

She just nods again. He looks at me and I shrug. He messed up and he knows it. He needs to fix it.

“Say you forgive me, Sky. You know I’m not leaving if you’re upset with me,” Devon begs.

She looks at him and grins. “I forgive you,ifyou bring home dinner so I don’t have to go to the store today.”

“Deal!” he says with relief.

“Okay,” she replies. “And I’m sorry I got your hopes up for an omelet. I totally spaced on owing you snacks this week. I’ll get extra eggs when I go shopping tomorrow.”

“Now, that sounds like a deal. I’ll see you guys tonight. Text me if you have any requests for dinner,” he calls out as he heads back out the door.

We head back to the living room and snuggle together on the couch after Devon leaves.

“Is that normal for you two?” I ask, glancing at the door.

“No, not really. I think this is all going to be an adjustment. Devon is used to having both of us to himself. Now, he has to share us with each other, and we have to share him too. It’ll work out. We just have to find a new dynamic that works for all of us,” she reasons.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it. I’ll talk to him tonight,” I tell her.

“No,wewill talk to him tonight. I don’t want you two fussing over me. I’m a big girl, contrary to the evidence saying otherwise,” she says with a huff.

“Okay, Beautiful,” I tell her, kissing her softly.

We spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other better and I discover that there isn’t much she doesn’t know about me through Devon. It makes me wonder why he didn’t talk to me about her more. He mentioned “his buddy, Skyler” all the time but never went into details.

I guess I wasn’t really in the headspace to listen to stories about his life away from me. I was lost in my own responsibilities and grief, and he was just trying to be there for me the best way he could. So, I try to learn as much about her as I can, now. I discover that we have a lot in common, which shouldn’t surprise me since Devon called her a “female Brady.”

Devon comes in around eight o’clock with a huge to-go order from TG’s. Skyler jumps up from where from where she’s been snuggled into my side to help him carry the haul to the kitchen. He went all out—wings, onion rings, nachos, cheese sticks and jalapeno poppers. We spread everything out on the kitchen island while I grab us each a beer.

“I tried to text you both to make sure bar food was okay two nights in a row, but neither of you responded,” Devon says, scooping a big serving of nachos onto his plate.

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