Page 7 of Sin Bin Daddies
My thoughts immediately go to Ethan. I could barely keep one man—how the hell does she juggle three?
“Mads!” My brother nudges me. “You spaced out…”
“I’m just a little jet-lagged.” I smirk. “But I’m so glad to be here. This city really is just one big fucking soap opera.”
Logan chuckles. “Pretty much. But we can call it off, meet them another time if you?—”
“You guys can’t cancel,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Seriously, go. I’ll be fine.”
Henry frowns. “Are you sure? You just got here?—”
“Go. I’m just gonna order something and watch a movie. I need a night to just… breathe.”
Henry studies me, then sighs. “Alright. But text if you need anything.”
I nod, popping open the fridge again as Logan leans into Henry, whispering something in his ear.
I rummage through the shelves for something to drink when a soft noise catches my attention.
I glance up?—
And there they are.
Henry and Logan, wrapped around each other in the middle of the living room, kissing like they’re the only two people in the goddamn world.
It’s not some dramatic, movie-scene kiss. It’s something quieter, softer—full of love, full of years of knowing each other.
Something real. Something I thought I had with Ethan.
My throat tightens, but I push it down, turning back to the fridge.
“So, what about Sunny?” I ask, forcing lightness into my tone.
Logan pulls away, grinning. “Sunny’s a good boy. He’ll stay put.”
Henry ruffles the dog’s head. “He’s basically a couch potato with fur.”
Sunny flops onto the floor dramatically, like he understands.
I laugh, grabbing a bottle of wine and shutting the fridge.
“Alright. Have fun at your weird harem dinner,” I say, waving them off.
Henry snorts. “You’re the worst.”
“And you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
They give me a spare key—in case I want to go check out the beach—then they grab their things and head for the door.
I pop the cork off and sink onto the couch, Sunny hopping up beside me, his head landing on my lap.
The second I turn on the TV, I regret it.
Some game show blares at full volume, loud, chaotic, and aggressively neon. The contestants are screaming, flailing around like they’re on meth, and some announcer yells, “And that’s another point for Team Coconut!”
I snort, shaking my head. “What the actual hell is this?”
