Page 35 of The Hang Up

“Joshua?”

“Ignore it.”

But he ignored me instead and reached for my phone. I half-heartedly tried to stop him, digging my fingers into his side. He gasped and squirmed away.

“You monster,” he said, grabbing my still-ringing phone and slapping it on my chest.

I checked the screen and sat up, all amusement gone.

“What’s wrong?” Brock asked.

“It’s Sean.”

“Well, answer it.”

“Are you sure?”

“When was the last time he called you?” he asked, sitting up and gathering the sheet around him.

Right. I hit the button to accept the call. “Sean?”

“Hi, Dad. Are you okay? You sound upset.”

“Fine.” I mentally shook myself. “You don’t—haven’t called—never mind. How are you?” It felt weird to be asking my son about his day when I was naked in bed with his roommate.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I—” He hesitated, and I could hear someone in the background. Ben. And then I understood. Ben had encouraged Sean to call.

“It’s good to hear from you,” I said, grabbing Brock’s arm when he started to get up. “Stay?” I mouthed. He bit his lip, looking unsure, and I held my arm out. He snuggled against me, and I kissed the top of his head, trying to be quiet.

“Remember when we were going to do dinner? Now it’s turned into a barbeque,” he blurted out, and I realized he was nervous. This was hard for him. Brock watched my face, and I tried not to react.

Sean was making an effort. And I was giving his best friend blowjobs. Father of the Year.

“You’re having a barbeque?” That part didn’t make sense. They lived in a rundown apartment building.

“Regina is. She said I could invite you, but if you don’t want to…”

At the sound of his mom’s name, Brock tensed in my arms and glowered at me.

“Of course, I’d love to come. It would be great to see Regina and Angel again—ow—” I gave Brock a what-the-hell look and stared at the red spot on my chest where he’d pinched me. He smirked and then kissed the spot. Oh fuck. I closed my eyes, trying not to get a hard-on while talking to my son. “Does—” I held back a moan. Brock was torturing me. Such a vindictive little shit. “Does Brock know you’re inviting me?”

“I think he’ll be okay with it, don’t you?”

I glanced down at Brock. He mouthed the words. “No. No fucking way.”

I cleared my throat. “It’s his family—”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he cares if you reconnect with…them.”

Brock let out a growl. And it was sexy as fuck.

“What was that?”

“Bagheera,” I said, putting my hand over Brock’s mouth. “My cat.”

Brock glared at me, and I moved my hand. “You have a cat?” he silently questioned.

I nodded, biting my lips to keep from laughing or screaming.

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