Page 8 of Comeback
“Because I think both of you are awesome, you both think I’m awesome…so it only makes sense that you’d think she was awesome and vice versa.”
“That’s a lot of awesome in one sentence.”
He chuckles then asks,“You’re okay with it? If not, say the word and we’ll keep using that room for Tripp when he drinks too much and needs a place to crash.”
My body heats as I imagine Sabrina sleeping down the hall, running into her first thing in the morning or late at night, or fuck, what if she brings guys over and I have to listen to them having sex. It’s bad enough I’ve got Brogan and London banging their headboard against my wall every night.
But Brogan looks so hopeful, and I know how much it means to him. I can’t very well tell him I don’t want her moving in because I think there’s a chance she’ll drop out of his life again. So I nod. “It’s okay by me.”
It’s only for a little while until she finds her own place and she might not even say yes. I mean, I wouldn’t want to live with us considering how I’ve treated her. I’m sure it won’t come to anything. But the way my pulse races, I go to bed wondering if I’ve just made an epically bad decision.
The next morning when I wake up and walk out to the kitchen, Brogan and London are already up. London sits at the kitchen island while Brogan paces, phone in hand.
“How’s this for a text,” Brogan says, staring down at the small screen. He’s in shorts, no shirt, hair sticking up all over the place, but his eyes are wide, and his movements animated. He’s far more awake than I feel.
“Hey, good to see you last night. Glad you’re back in town!” He looks up. “Exclamation mark or no exclamation mark?”
My brows inch higher and I run a hand through my hair. My brain is foggy, and he is way too amped up for my hungover state.
“You’re overthinking it.” London smiles lovingly at him. “Just get to the point. You don’t need to ease into it with a paragraph of niceties.”
I slide onto a barstool next to London and work on keeping my head upright.
“Morning.” Brogan tips his head toward me. “How are you feeling?”
“Shitty, but nothing brunch won’t cure.” I slide my gaze to London. She loves brunch, and I don’t think I’ll have to work that hard to convince her to go out and have some greasy food and boozy drinks.
“I have to meet with a potential client this morning. Sorry.” She gives me a sympathetic frown.
Well, damn.
“What about you?” I ask Brogan.
“Sure. Yeah. I just need to finish this text.” He looks back to his phone. “Okay, how about: So glad we got to hang last night. Wanted to offer up the room again. It’s no big deal. Would love to have you around more.”
When he finishes, he looks to London for approval.
“Not bad,” she says.
“Not bad isn’t good.” His face is crestfallen.
“What is happening?” I ask, rubbing at my temples to ease the throbbing headache.
“He’s asking Sabrina to move in.” London gets up from her stool. She walks over to Brogan and lifts on her toes to place a kiss on his lips. When she drops back down, she says, “Send it. She’ll either say yes or no, but it’s not because you aren’t amazing.”
My stomach drops. I completely forgot about my conversation with Brogan last night. Dammit. Drunk me should not be allowed to agree to things.
He nods, but as soon as she leaves, Brogan looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders again. I must not look much better because he grabs a banana and places it in front of me and then fills a glass with water and does the same.
“Thank you.”
“I can smell the booze screaming from your pores,” he says with a smirk.
I take two large bites of banana, swallow, and drink half the glass of water before replying. “I went a little too hard. Did you already eat?”
I have my heart set on brunch. Nothing cures a hangover like pancakes and mimosas.
“Yes, but I’ll go with you as soon as I figure out how to convince Sabrina to move in.”
