Page 14 of Book Boyfriends
“We haven’t discussed this.” Hope glares at him.
“I know, but?—”
“No buts.” She raises her left hand, points at her ring, and then at his on his left hand. “These rings mean we’re a team.Wediscuss things like this. Like asking my best friend, your sister, and the only aunt toourdaughter to move out.”
Hope may be the human embodiment of a Care Bear, but bears have claws. There have only been a few times throughout our decades-long friendship that I’ve seen feisty Hope come out. The time she verbally castrated a bully who shouted homophobic slurs at Jackson at a high school baseball game. The time Will showed up to pick up his things after our breakupand she turned the garden hose on full blast and sprayed him as he walked, box in hand, to his car.
Rem rubs the back of his head. “Sweetheart, I’m?—”
“Don’t sweetheart me.” She gestures wildly.
Affection may bubble inside me at my friend’s ire directed on my behalf, but it curdles in my stomach to see them argue. The hurt that cascades within me aside, I don’t want to see this. The anger isn’t good for Hope’s blood pressure. I know it’s something their OB-GYN has mentioned they should keep an eye on.
“It’s fine,” I blurt, drawing both their attention. “I have been thinking that it may be time to move out.”
“You have?” they say in unison, Hope’s eyes wide and Rem’s forehead wrinkled.
Shifting in my seat, I nod. “Yeah.”
It’s a total lie. Since unpacking my packed boxes for a move that never happened, the idea never crossed my mind. In all my daydreams of future relationships or selling enough books to write full time, I never imagined a future that isn’t the carriage house apartment. Maybe I am in my own version of Peter Pan syndrome, where I just live at home the rest of my life.
“Pregnancy Card!” Hope tosses her hands into the air.
“The doctor said you shouldn’t have fried foods, but…” Rem says, the conflicting emotions that wrestle inside him are visible in his pinched expression. His desire to always keep his wife happy is at war with that to keep her safe.
“No,nota mozzarella sticks run,” she tuts. “Georgia moving. Can we put a pause on it until after the baby comes?” She rubs her stomach and the action drags both Rem and my attention to her pregnant belly.
Oh, she’s good.There’s no doubt that my bestie is emotional about this. The baby hormones have gotten the best of her at times but she’s playing both of us.
A silent laugh tugs up my lips. “Sure.”
Rem places his hand over hers, tenderness making his eyes bright. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“And your sister?” She almost pouts.
She’s ruthless. God, I love her.I bite back a snicker.
“Of course.” He meets my gaze. “I’m sorry, Georgia. I know how I can be, but please know it’s just me wanting what’s best.”
I try not to fixate on Rem not telling me he doesn’t want me to leave. The attempt isn’t valiant. It’s a flat-out submission to the truth that my brother wants me gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE’S A MAN… NO WAIT THERE’RE THREE
My brother wants me gone.That truth nips at me as I take the stairs to my apartment, Wentworth trotting behind me. Outside of the dorms in undergrad, this has always been my home.
Opening the door, I step inside. This is my safe space. It’s where I picked up the pieces after Will. It’s where I write my stories.
The smell of cinnamon and vanilla greets me. “Did I leave a candle burning?” A crease forms on my brow.
Wentworth pushes past me, his tail wagging furiously. I step fully into the apartment and shut the door behind me. The ding of the timer pulls my attention to the kitchen, where a man stands in aCinnamon Rolls Aren’t Just Pastriesapron.
“Just in time!” He opens the oven and pulls out a tray. “Vanilla chai muffins from scratch. I had to improvise some of the ingredients. You really do need to restock your spice cabinet.”
“Who are…” Eyes wide, my pulse quickens. “Wentworth, come,” I hiss, motioning for him to come back to my side so we can make a quick escape.
Ignoring me, he scampers up to the unidentified assailant who has broken into my apartment to…Bake me muffins? The stranger bends, offering ear scratches with his free hand.
