Page 43 of Dr. Bad Boy

I miss those cookies right now. They were almost as good as the chocolates Max brought me.

And now I’m thinking about Max again, and Matthew is staring at me, and when did my life get so complicated?

“What’s up with you?” He cuts right to the chase. Such a cop.

“Hello, nice to see you too, neighbour. How’s your week been? Tea? Yes? Be right back.”

I try to escape to the kitchen, but he follows me. “It’s been busy. Worked overtime the night before last, didn’t get home until mid-afternoon. Then I passed out for a few hours, and when I woke up,starving, and wanted to go out to pick up some food, I found my neighbour making out with a strange guy outside her apartment. And because I’m a decent guy, I didn’t interrupt them, so I almost died from starvation.”

I blush. “Oh.” Then I frown. “We weren’t there for that long.”

“I was starving. It felt like forever. Although he does have a nice ass. That made up for it.”

“How did we not hear you?”

“I didn’t open my door. Just watched through the peephole.”

I groan. “That’s so creepy.”

“How many times have I told you to look out your peephole before you leave your apartment?”

I just roll my eyes. “Okay.”

“That’s all I was doing.” He gives me a dorky grin. “And checking out your date’s ass. But that was an accident. Spill. Who is he?”

I shake my head. “Nobody.”

“You haven’t had a date since that guy you picked up at the Chateau Laurier. A make out session is not nothing, it’s a very important step in the right direction of getting your groove back.”

“There is nothing wrong with my groove.”

“Of course there is, sweetie. But now that you’re dating again, we can move you forward and away from the monogamy trap.”

“Haven’t you been dating Gareth for like six months now?”

“That’s different. I’ve sowed all my wild oats. And Gareth is perfect.”

He’s not wrong. His boyfriend is perfect. “You don’t deserve him, you know,” I say with a wink, and that detours him into telling me about the latest sweet thing G did.

He doesn’t bring the conversation back to Max until we finish our tea and he stands up to stretch. He’s a big guy and he takes up a lot of space in my kitchen.

Even more when he props his hands on his hips and glowers down at me. “So again, who’s the guy?”

I take a deep breath. “He’s a secret.”

His eyes narrow. “You being safe?”

In a manner of speaking. “Yes.”

“You’ll tell me if I need to kick his ass?”

“Yes.” Maybe. I don’t know. Part of me is pretty sure this thing with Max will end spectacularly badly, and I’m kind of okay with that, because before that it’ll just be spectacular.

But I’ll keep the Matthew beating as a back-up plan just in case I forget to be an adult about it when our secret affair ends.

I stand up and give him a quick hug, which he tolerates. “Now you need to leave, though, because the secret guy is coming over later. And I’d prefer if you didn’t spy on him through the peephole again.”

He grunts, and I know he won’t. One of the reasons our friendship went from friendly neighbours to nosy besties is that he’s honest to a fault, and completely trustworthy. He bleeds honour and duty, and that’s a big deal to me.

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