The Randy Romance Novelist(87)

But would I be stuck at home most nights, taking care of the baby, while he was off at the bars looking for women like he used to?

Why did he know and not tell me?

That was the question that kept running though my head. Why wouldn’t he say anything? Was he hoping I just “took care of it?”

No, never. I shook my head to myself.

In the faint distance, I heard Delaney say something to me, but I didn’t listen; I tuned her out completely as I shut my eyes and tried to clear my mind of all negative thoughts. This was supposed to be a happy time in my life, but for the life of me, I couldn’t smile.





Chapter Nineteen


Bro-mander in Chief



HENRY




“You look good in this office,” Freddy said, observing my new space. “Do you know how you’re going to decorate it? This is an important decision. You could go classic with woods and simple textiles, or you can go baller status like Eric and have glass everywhere. Dude must have stock in Windex because that place is spotless.”

I stared out the window while Freddy blabbed on about decorating. The man was infuriating most of the time, when he wasn’t confusing the hell out of me.

“You could have a lovely settee over here with a matching ottoman for those days you just want to kick your feet up with your laptop. I think a Persian rug, a mini fridge for your sparkling water, and an espresso machine off to the side are musts. You could do some lovely hosting in here.”

“What are you doing in here?” I asked Freddy, irritated more than I wished I was.

I got up this morning, tired as f*ck, and felt empty. It was the first night Rosie and I had spent apart from each other since we’d been together. I didn’t like waking up to her side of the bed being cold and untouched. I didn’t enjoy taking a shower this morning without her cute singing filling the small bathroom. I also didn’t like eating breakfast by myself, watching Sir Licks-a-Lot make out with himself. I came into work early, trying to get my mind off Rosie, but Freddy chose to invade my space and talk to me about interior design. I didn’t care about my damn office. I cared about Rosie and what was going on with her.

Freddy sat in a chair across from my desk and set his hands in his lap. “I feel like you’re mad at me, Bro-mato.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, telling myself not to take out my frustrations on Freddy. He was just trying to be excited for me.

“Rough night,” was all I said.

Freddy nodded and then looked at my office door. His hands twisted, and it looked like he wanted to say something to me.

“What’s going on? You look all jittery.”

“Uh, can I speak man to man with you?”

“Sure?” I asked in a question, more than a statement. What the hell was Freddy about to tell me?

Silently, he got out of his chair, shut my office door, and then sat back down. He rubbed his palms on his khaki pants, looking nervous as hell.

“I don’t really know how to say this.”

“Just say it,” I answered, annoyed.

He nodded and took a deep breath. “After the party on Saturday, Tasha came home with me.”

“Okay. Good for you, man.”

“I know I broke guy code and everything, since she was your girlfriend.”

I held up my hand and stopped him. “Freddy, I could care less if you and Tasha hooked up. She means nothing to me. I honestly don’t give two shits who she dates.”

“Well, that’s the thing, we didn’t hook up.”

Shit.

I tried not to roll my eyes. I didn’t want to hear about how Tasha was still hung up on me or what kind of evil plan she conspired to get back at me. I wasn’t in the mood. All I wanted was to talk to Derk and then get to Rosie as soon as possible.

“Okay, well maybe next time.” I tried to brush him off by unpacking pictures of Rosie from one of the boxes I used to pack up my cube.

“I don’t think there will be a next time. She didn’t seem to appreciate what happened.”

I quirked an eyebrow at Freddy. “What happened?”

His hands continued to twist in his lap, sweat formed on his brow, and I would bet one hundred dollars if I lifted his arm there would be a pool of sweat formed on his light blue button-up shirt.

“I couldn’t get it up.”

I stilled. Not really what I was expecting to hear, and something I definitely didn’t want to talk about with Freddy. I barely knew what his favorite coffee was; I didn’t want to hear about his bedroom problems.

“Uh, well . . .” I was speechless. “I actually don’t really know what to say to that.”

“It was terrible,” he continued. “She took off her dress, revealing her tits to me, and nothing happened. Not even a twinge from my dick. Not even the slightest salute. I thought maybe if I motor-boated her, pressed my tongue against her nipple, something would stir up . . . but that didn’t do it either. She touched my dick and noticed I wasn’t hard; she was so embarrassed that she dressed herself and ran away.”

I sat there, stunned, not sure where to go with this. “Still don’t know what to say.”

“Then I got nervous that my dick was broken, so I quickly went to my computer and pulled up some of my favorite porn movies with James Deen in them, and settled into my chair. Within a few strokes, my dick was alert and ready to be smacked around.”