Page 20 of Make Me Yours
Steele:
You better be eating that breakfast.
Unable to help myself, I huff out a laugh and shake my head.
Of course he’d check.
How did I go from dating a man who never noticed anything, to waking up in the home of someone who knows my favorite breakfast down to the smallest detail?
Aside from Steele being my friend for the last decade, I don’t have an answer.
More than that, it’s not something I want to dwell on.
Not when I’m feeling so raw.
Damaged.
After breakfast, I take a long shower before pulling on a new T-shirt and a pair of Steele’s boxers.
The first thing on the agenda is reaching out to Devon and telling him where to send my belongings. He and Marissa probably boxed them up last night so he could move her right in. Even though I didn’t leave my job on my own terms, it’s a relief that I won’t have to see either one of them again.
Just when I’m trying to figure out what to wear, my phone buzzes with another message from Steele.
Steele:
Tommy at the front desk is bringing up a delivery for you. He’ll leave it in the entryway.
There’s the distant ding of the elevator and another noise before the doors slide shut again. I pad barefoot through the hallway before peeking around the corner to find three large shopping bags from one of my favorite stores.
With pinched brows, I step closer before glancing in the bags. They’re filled with jeans, sweaters, T-shirts, panties, bras, socks, and three pairs of shoes. I check the tags, amazed to find everything in my size.
How did he know?
Even more surprising is there isn’t anything I don’t love or wouldn’t wear.
I truly don’t understand how some woman hasn’t snapped Steele up yet. The man is perfect husband material.
An hour later, I step inside Lakeshore Sweets. The scents of cinnamon, espresso, and vanilla cocoon me in comfort. It’s still early enough that the bakery buzzes with a low, cozy energy. Pastries are cooling on wire racks, there’s the faint hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter, and Callie, Sloane, and Rina are gathered at a corner table with their coffees in hand.
The three of them are more than just my friends. They’re my people. The ones who would show up with baseball bats or bottles of wine, depending on what the situation required.
Callie spots me first, her warm brown eyes flooding with concern. She rises from her chair without a word and then pulls me into a hug so tight it nearly cracks my ribs.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs against my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
The dam inside me threatens to break, but I rein it in and pull back with a small smile. “Thanks.”
Rina, dressed in a sharp black blazer, leans back in her chair and raises a brow. “Do we need to slash some tires? Because I brought a sharp object, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Sloane, lounging with her coffee cup balanced between two fingers, smirks. “Or we could leave a glitter bomb in his gym bag. Emotional damage and a cleanup nightmare.”
I laugh—the first real one in what feels like forever—as I slide into the empty chair they’ve saved for me. “Thanks for the offers, but no sabotage necessary.”
“For now,” Rina says darkly, sipping her latte.
Callie nudges a plate across the table. It’s got my favorite on it. A warm almond croissant drizzled with just the right amount of glaze. “Eat first. Plot second.”
I blink against the sudden sting in my eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”
