Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(101)

“Yeah, I am, okay?” I sigh and run a frustrated hand through my hair. “Even though I don’t want to, I still fucking love her. I spend all fucking day trying not to think about her. Trying not to call her. Trying not to just show up at her rental like a psycho. It’s not something that just goes away in seven fucking days.”

Truthfully, up until now, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with anyone before.

And even though I hate to admit that Luca is right, the fucker is right. Birdie is the first woman I’ve ever let all the way in. Though, now, after this, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’ve been doing things right all along. Because, fuck, if falling in love with a woman ends like this, I’m having a hard time understanding the point in it all.

You say that like you have a choice to just fall in love with someone else, you fucking amateur. She’s it for you. You’re going to be pining after her for fucking years.

Christ.

“She’s a mess, you know,” Billie says, her voice a soft inclination over her words. “A total fucking mess.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she looks exactly like you look right now. Which should tell you everything you need to know.”

I hate how quickly my heart latches on to that little ray of hope she just provided.

But it does.

And the damn thing picks up a rhythm inside my chest.

“Ever since she got back to LA, besides trying to help me get ready for the baby, she’s done nothing but mope around and be miserable. Whenever I try to talk about you, she completely shuts down and gets insanely pissed at me.”

Sounds about right for Birdie. Her anger has a quick trigger.

“And what exactly do you think I’m supposed to do with this information?”

“I think you need to man up and really tell my sister how you feel.”

An incredulous laugh escapes my lungs. “I’m not just going to show up at her house out of the blue, Billie.”

She shakes her head. “Not her house. Our house.”

“You completely lost me.”

“I’ll lay the groundwork for bringing you two together,” she explains. “Just be ready to come to our house on Saturday.”

“And then what?”

“And then,” she answers without reluctance, “the ball is in your court. So, you can either be a fucking man and tell my sister how you really feel about her, or you can be a little bitch and stay miserable for the rest of your life. And hell’s bells, I really hope you’re not going to be a little bitch about this,” Billie explains and proceeds to use Luca’s shoulder to help her stand to her feet. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to take my pregnant ass back home and spend the rest of the day lounging on the couch and complaining about being uncomfortable.”

“Dude? A little help?” I look at Luca, but he just flashes a stupid smirk in my direction.

“Don’t be a little bitch, Andrew,” he says, and that stupid smirk only grows. “Thanks for the coffee, and I’ll see you real soon.”

And then they both leave me standing in my kitchen, completely confused by what just transpired.

What in the hell was that?





Birdie



I can’t wait until my sister delivers this baby. Not only because I’m simply excited to meet my future niece or nephew, but also because I’m ready for her to stop being so damn demanding. I’ve been back in LA for a little over a week, and Billie has managed to commandeer just about all of my time.

Yesterday, while Luca was busy with a press junket for an upcoming film, I went to the OB-GYN with her.

I’ve helped her shop for last-minute things like extra bottles and pacifiers and diapers and baby clothes.

I’ve washed all her baby clothes.

I’ve gone with her to get a pregnancy massage and pedicures.

I’ve even joined her in her pool for a freaking pregnancy aerobics class that she’s apparently been doing for the past five months with some bubbly private instructor named Poppy. Which was one of the craziest things I’ve ever witnessed. Hell, the woman showed up in a neon-pink one-piece bathing suit, leg warmers, a fanny pack, and a matching sweatband, and insisted on playing 80s pop music through the entire workout.

And now, I’m currently sitting in the nursery, organizing all the baby’s gender-neutral newborn clothes in the armoire that sits across from the white crib.

Billie watches on from the cushioned pastel-yellow rocking chair, her now-swollen ankles resting on a footstool. Her trusty Labrador sidekick Bailey sleeps on the floor right beside her while she sips from a fresh glass of lemonade and takes occasional bites of a chocolate chip cookie that currently rests on the “tabletop” formed by her protruding belly.

I swear to God, now that Billie is so close to her due date, her big oaf of a dog doesn’t ever leave her side. Though he was originally Luca’s dog, Bailey has more than proven he’s most loyal to my sister. It’s pretty damn adorable, to be honest.

“Oh, by the way,” she updates as I fold the cutest little onesie with ducks on it and set it in the armoire. “Luca and I are having an engagement party Saturday night at our house.”

“Saturday night?” I question and glance over my shoulder to look at her. “This Saturday night?”