Page 11 of Crazy In Love
CHRIS
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” The very moment I bring the truck to a stop in Tommy’s driveway and kill the engine, Fox whips her seatbelt off and shoves her door open. “Oh my God! Ahhh!” She leaves her purse behind. Her suitcases. Her bad attitude, too, and bounds out of the truck, dashing toward Alana’s top-heavy form waiting on the porch. “Lana!”
She sprints up the steps and crashes into her best friend with a violence Tommy and I wouldnever. They squeeze and hug, squeal, and hell, there’s a little jumping, too.
I had no clue Alana could do that anymore.
“I missed you so much!” Alana blubbers, pregnancy tears sliding onto her cheeks and a sob making her chest bounce.
I roll my eyes and climb out of the truck, moving to the back so I can get Fox’s shit and toss it on the lawn.
Tommy, being the smart man he is, circles the women and heads this way, too.
It’s dark out now, and the cicadas are already screaming. But his eyes are on me, his hands in his pockets while his walk is part escape, part swagger.
“They didn’t do that last time they were together.” He comes to the back of the truck and drops the tailgate open, reaching in to grab the larger of the two suitcases.Geez, it’s almost like he knows I intend to disrespect the glittering purple eyesore.“Was she squeaking and whatnot while you were driving?”
“Nope.” I snatch the carry-on case and set it in the dirt—oops—before stepping back and digging my hands into my pockets. “She was snippy and rude and annoying, actually.” I tip my chin toward the cab. “Her purse is in there, on the floor. She kicked it over when she bolted, so you’re gonna need to get it.”
He follows my gaze and chuckles. But at least he starts toward the passenger door. “You have a real problem with this, huh?” He grabs her things, tossing random women-shit into the depths of her purse. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you sopre-annoyed before.”
“I’m not pre-annoyed. I’m adequately post-annoyed because she’s… she’s…”
“She’s what?” He leans into the truck to make sure he’s got everything. “From a time in Alana’s life that we’re not a part of? Confident and louder than you’d like? Someone who has a whole decade of Alana’s history tucked away in her heart? If anyone gets to be toxically defensive about all this, it’s me. But I’m not, because I’m pretty fuckin’ glad Lana had someone to count on while she was dealing with things we had no clue about.”
“Tommy—”
“Never, when I think of that woman, can I muster even an ounce of irritation. She was there for them when I wasn’t. I won’t shit on that.” He closes the truck door and glances at the lady-duo on the porch, and then at Franky—my buddy, my pal—who looks up at the pair with an expression verging on intolerance.
My boy.
“Alana smiles because Fox is in her life.” He comes around the truck and grabs the larger suitcase. “That’s all I need to know. If my girl wants her friend, then I’m gonna make damn sure she sees her friend. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.”
“What if she tries to take over?” I grab the carry-on case, since I’m not a complete douchebag—sometimes—and follow him toward the house. “What if the baby arrives, and when it’s your turn to hold her, Fox inserts herself instead?”
“She won’t. She’s here to help, and that baby is mine, too.Iget to say who holds her. Not Fox.”
“What if she convinces Alana to move back to New York at the end of the six weeks? Maybe it’ll be like, ‘You’ve needed me this whole time, since babies are hard work. Come back with me.’Then maybe she’ll look at you like, ‘Just for a little while, Tommy. You gotta focus on your fights. Alana can return to Plainview when the baby is twenty-one.’
“Jesus.” He shakes his head and drags the suitcase in his wake. “Soundslike you have some insecurities to work through. Alana’s life is here now, and Fox already let her go once.”
“What kinda name is that, anyway?” I quicken my stride, because I’ll be damned if we leave those two alone for too long and risk Fox buying return tickets formyfamily. “Fox isn’t even a name. It’s not even a nickname. It’s not even a shortened version of a real name. It’s just…”
“None of our business?” He taunts me with dancing eyes and lugs the overweight suitcase up the stairs. And because our approach is noisy, drawing his guest’s curious eyes, he sets the case by the door and circles back for a hug. “Glad you arrived safe. Flight was okay?”
She squeezes him long enough to almost make it weird, holding on when he would have stepped back. But then she releases him and scoops Alana closer until they’re hip to hip. “Flight was uneventful. Food was bland. But,” she adds when Franky’s eyes alight with his fun fact, “I heard that cabin pressure can affect our tastebuds. So maybe the food wasn’t bland at all.”
“Maybe.” Tommy grins, reaching over and swiping a wet tear track from Alana’s cheek. “We’re happy to have you. I’m especially happy that Alana’s happy.”
“Will you change your mind and stay here at the house?” Alana pleads. “You could take any of the spare rooms and not be in the way.”
“There’s plenty of room for you,” Tommy agrees. “We’d love to have you.”
“I’ll stay here tonight, since it’s already dark, and I missed the hell out of you. But tomorrow, I’m hiring a car and moving into the apartment above the bookstore. I want to give you your space.”
“But—”
“I’ll want my space, too,” she cuts in with a playful smile. “You know me, Lana. I spread out and occupy every inch of my living quarters. So unless you want my heels in your kitchen and my hair straightener between the couch cushions, this is best. Six weeks is both a long time and a blink of an eye. I don’t want to waste a single second of it worrying about getting under each other’s feet.”
