Page 55 of Delay of Game

“Oh.” That’s all I muster to say as I chew on my bottom lip.

Ash reaches out with a thumb and stops my ministrations. His look is one of sadness but also understanding.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

I shake my head and force myself to smile. “Hey, it’s fine. I knew he’d be back eventually.”

“There’s more.” My smile falls again and Ash grimaces. “He’s subletting my apartment.”

I gulp. “You mean, the one across the hall from mine?”

“That’s the one.”

“Yay!” I weakly wave my free hand in the air.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

I sigh and run a hand through my shoulder-length blond hair. My curtain bangs fall back into my eyes and I blow them out of the way.

“Your haircut looks nice,” Ash says, tapping my shoe with his.

I tap his back and give him a small smile, “Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s not your job to look after everyone, you know?”

“Sure it is. It used to be Robbie but now that he’s a dad, his priorities have shifted. With good reason.”

“Oh, and you thought it should be you? You think you have what it takes to be thedadof the group?” I tease him.

Ash mocks his affront. “Naturally.”

“Ha! Good one, bud.”

His phone pings and he swears. “I’m sorry to cut this short, Al. I need to look at a house for sale.”

“Is it the one across the street from Robbie?”

“Yes!! You’ve seen it?” he asks, excitement written all over his face.Oh, this boy is trouble.

“I didn’t go inside, but if I could afford to buy a house, I’d totally buy that one,” I say, thinking of the pretty white ranch-style home. I may have stalked the hell out of it on Zillow.

“I have big plans,” Ash says, grinning like a fool. I shake my head at his antics and kiss his cheek.

“Good luck, Ash. Thanks for the heads up. Kick ass this season, yeah?”

“Anything for you, Al.”

I watch him leave the apartment building and square my shoulders on my way to the elevator. My heart beats fast as it approaches the third floor.

What am I going to say to him?

What is he going to say to me?

The elevator doors open but my body refuses to move. The doors close again and I shut my eyes tight, trying to put him out of my mind. But it’s pointless.

When I open my eyes, the man I’ve been in love with for almost a decade is standing in front of me, hands tucked in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. His eyes are wide and his mouth opens like he might say something. For a moment I want to fling myself into his strong arms and go back to that night before the trade.

Before he broke my heart.

Before he ruined me.

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