Page 55 of Composed at Randy's
“Really?” This is impossible, but I still want to hear Wren say it. “When did you know?
“It started when you burst through the door at Gwen’s clinic, but I think you really clenched it when you said you wanted me to go home with you so you could take care of me.”
“You’re easy,” I laugh. “But also totally wrong. I fell when you collapsed in my arms.”
“You’re definitely easier. I do that sort of thing all the time!”
Uh… no. He’s not doing that anymore.
“Don’t look at me like that. I was joking! I haven’t done something like that in ages before this week. Kai is really good to me. I promise.”
Kai is going to be a massive pain in my ass, I can just feel it.
“If you live with me, you won’t need Kai.”
“I’m not going anywhere without Kai. He’s family.” Wren sets his jaw and his eyes flash dangerously.
Goddammit.
“Fine, but he doesn’t get to carry you anywhere, and you aren’t allowed to collapse on him.”
“Fine, but you don’t get to let your groupies fondle you.”
That’s no hardship because I never let them do it in the first place. “Deal,” I say and hold out my hand to Wren.
Just as he shakes it, Kai’s voice filters through the curtains. “Either fuck or leave. This is getting boring, and I’m hungry.”
“Did you know he was there?”
Wren shrugs. “I assumed.”
“Well, At least I know you won't have a problem with how codependent the band is.”
“I think my people and I will fit right in.” Wren kisses my cheek, grabs my hand, and tugs me toward the break in the curtains. “Now come on, let's go show Marty and Kai how awesome Randy’s is.”
Chapter 17
Wren
“Are you sure Bael is the one you want?” Travis asks me as he eyeballs my new boyfriend dubiously.
Bael is trying to get the door to Randy’s open and failing miserably. I'm not sure what the problem is. He's using every ounce of his considerable bulk to try and push the damn thing open, but it's just not budging.
“Obviously. Why wouldn't I? He's perfect for me. Hold on a second, I'm gonna go help him.”
I leave Travis and what I think was the beginning of his well-meaning shovel talk to go help Bael. There's no way that door will hold up against both of us.
“Here,” I say. “Let me get under your arm. If I use both of my hands to push and you stand behind me and push too, we'll get this thing open.”
“Good idea.”
Unfortunately, it doesn't matter how hard we push; this damn door isn’t going anywhere. Everyone else seems content to let us handle the problem though, so we keep at it.
“Are you filming this, Marty?” Mel asks my dearest friend in the entire world.
“I owe it to their future children.”
“I’m not sure I want kids, Marty,” I say as I step back from the door and examine it to see if there’s something blocking it, but I don’t see anything.
