Proving Paul's Promise(8)

“Well, you’ve already f*cked up the atmosphere,” he says. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I’m going to do nothing.”

Friday has been a part of our circle for four years. But almost all of that time, I thought she was a lesbian. The five minutes when I didn’t is when the trouble started.

“It didn’t look like nothing when we got here. You were kissing her eyelids and she didn’t seem too put out by it.”

“She’s not in the right position for what I want,” I say. I can’t tell him about her being pregnant. It’s not my story to tell.

He grins. “Well, what position did you want her in?”

“Shut up,” I grouse.

“If she’s in the wrong position, flip her the f*ck over.” He throws up his hands. “Hell, turn her upside down if you have to.”

“It’s not that easy.”

His gaze softens. “Nothing worth having is easy to get.”

If anyone would know, it’s Matt. He battled cancer and thought he would never get married or have a kid, and now he has three with twins on the way. He fought, and he won.

“Is she worth having?” Matt asks.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head.

“Do you want to find out?”

“I don’t know.” I drag a hand down my face.

“I never took you for being a quitter.”

I heave in a breath. “I’ve never quit anything on purpose. But this fight might be more than I want to take on.”

“Hell, you knew she had baggage. Layers. You told me you wanted to find out everything about her. Find out why she doesn’t have a family. Find out why she’s all alone in New York. Find out why she’s living in Pete’s spare room until tomorrow.”

I spin to face him. “She’s living with Pete and Reagan?” I didn’t know about that. “Why?”

He shrugs. “She had to move out of the dorm after graduation. They had an empty room. But Reagan’s parents are coming to stay for two weeks, so she’s going somewhere else.”

“Where?” I ask quickly.

He shrugs. “Does it matter?” But he’s grinning.

Fuck yeah, it matters. “Is she going to stay with one of the douchebags?”

“What douchebags?” Matt scratches his head.

“Never mind,” I say. Hope swells within me. I shouldn’t let it, but it does. I get out a piece of paper and write on it in magic marker:



ROOM FOR RENT

PRICE NEGOTIABLE

ONLY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE

BOMBSHELLS NEED APPLY

PREFERABLY ONES NAMED FRIDAY

I walk out of the back room and go to the bulletin board. I stick a thumbtack in the “advertisement” and walk away.

I hear a snicker from behind me and turn to grin at Logan.

You’re a d-o-o-f-u-s, he signs, fingerspelling the last word because there’s no sign for something so stupid.

I know, I sign back.

He looks a little worried for me, but I don’t care. I can’t get where I want to go if I don’t take a first step. Regardless of whether or not she’s pregnant, she needs a place to stay and I have two empty rooms. And she’s family, for Christ’s sake.

I’ve never wanted to eat out a member of my family, though. I scratch my head. I should probably stop thinking like that.

I whistle to myself as I walk to my office. I have some paperwork to do before my first appointment arrives. And I need to give Friday time to find my ad.





Friday

I’ve been working on a particularly tricky tat for a client, and I can’t quite get it right. I motion Logan over to take a look.

“What do you think?” I glance up at him. He pinches his lips together and shakes his head. “What?” I ask, throwing up my hands. “Use your words.”

Instead, he takes my pencil and spins the paper toward him. He draws on it for a second and then shoves it toward me. He hands my pencil back and grins.

“I hate you,” I say, when I see that he just added two lines and made my drawing perfect.

“I love you, too,” he says. He leans over quickly and kisses my forehead. I squeeze my eyes closed and let him.

He makes a noise and goes over to the bulletin board. He starts to draw little hearts around the edges of a posting. I tap his shoulder so he’ll look up. “What are you doing?”

“Adding hearts,” he says, like I should have guessed.

I tap him again so he’ll look at me. “Why are you doing that?”

He shrugs. “It needed hearts.”

“What needed hearts?” I ask. I lean closer so I can read the paper.

My own heart thuds. “It doesn’t need hearts,” I say. It needs condoms. Well, that is, if I’m not already pregnant. I look up at Logan. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, does he?” I ask.

He squeezes my shoulder. “Go easy on him, will you?”

“Why?”

“He quit Kelly for you, Friday.” He glares at me. “Like, cold turkey. He quit her. He’s been f*cking Kelly for years. And he broke things off with her.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask.