“Have you and your step-brother buried the hatchet at least?”
“I haven’t spoken to that asshole in years. Best fucking years of my life.” He inhales. “His mom is still in the picture making dad happy and she’s been good to me. So I can’t complain about that. They don’t force holiday dinners either. They know we despise each other.”
“I don’t think you two have ever liked each other.”
He shakes his head just as Aimee shrieks. “Vincent Hoyer? No damn way!” She tackle hugs him, slinging her arms around his neck. “I thought you moved.”
He flashes his charming megawatt smile. “You missed me.”
She backhands him on his chest, batting her eyes. “In your dreams, Vinny boy.”
Vincent has always hated that nickname. No one could call him that without being corrected, except for us. It’s been like that for years.
Shyla comes around the table and gives him a hug too. “You’re looking good, Shy,” he says. “Matter of fact, all of you are hot.”
Shyla titters. “We’ve always been hot.”
Vincent snaps his fingers ending them with a point and then turns to me. “I rode by that house you were fixing up. On the outside, it looked great. You still live there?”
“Yep,” I beam proudly.
“Damn. I should’ve stopped in.”
Shyla rolls her eyes. “You’ll have to knock hard because our girl sits out back and reads all the time still.”
“You still read that junk?”
“It’s not junk,” I defend myself. “It’s romantic and good and it gives me all the feels.”
“The feels?” Vincent cracks up. “If you weren’t studying boring books, you were reading them.”
“Hey!” I squeak with a laugh.
After thirty more minutes of catching up and walking down memory lane, we decide to call it a night and leave. We say our goodbyes to Vincent and slip inside the awaiting limo like we’re celebrities.
TWENTY-SIX
I texted Nathan to let him know I was home the moment I set foot into the house. Being that it’s almost two in the morning, I knew I wouldn’t hear from him.
I’m curled up under the covers, my face freshly washed from makeup, and I’m about to turn off the bedside lamp when there’s a knock at my door. Excitement pulls a smile from me. Nathan is surprising me. I jerk out of the bed, sprint down the hallway and rip open the door about to throw myself onto him when the sight of Vincent startles the piss out of me.
“Vincent!” I squeak, feeling disappointed it’s him and not the man I wanted to see. “What are you doing here?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn’t done catching up.”
“It’s two in the morning. I was in bed,” I tell him.
“Already? You move fast.” His lips quirk up. “Come on. Let a friend in. Old times sake.”
I push open the door. “Some things never change,” I say as he passes by. My mom used to get so pissed because he’d show up at random times and then make himself at home. She loved him like a son who was old enough to support his damn self. And when I bought this house, he popped in randomly for about a month before he disappeared.
He looks around the living room. “Holy shit, Doodle. This place looks amazing. No more god-awful yellow walls.”
I giggle. “Yeah, I got rid of Big Bird,” I say handing him a bottle of water.
He spins to look at the couch and points. “And you’ve upgraded the furniture.” Sitting, he takes a swig and leans back. “No more futon. Look at you winning at life.”
I take a seat in my recliner and tuck my feet under me. “It was hard to get rid of that monstrosity but it was time to grow up.”
“Ever think where we’d be if we didn’t split up? Or what if we had tried again after school was over?”
Shaking my head, my face screws up. “Nope. Don’t go there. We were better off as friends and you know it. That week felt weird.”
“Yeah…” he exhales, sliding to the end of the cushion and dropping his head into his hands. “I’m sorry. Natalie’s on my mind hard tonight. I fucking loved her. We had plans for a future, and she went out and was banging Cliff.” His hands fall away from his face and he shakes his head. “My place reminds me of her even though she’s moved and I threw everything else out.”
Sounds close to Aimee’s story. “I’m sorry.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Shit happens, right?”
He takes another swig from his water and then a slow smile creeps across his lips. “How’s your mom?”
Thinking of my mother instantly brings me joy. “She’s good. She took up some cooking classes and began cooking for the homeless at a shelter a few hours away.”
“Always a saint. She loved me. It’s the reason why she always let me crash on the couch.”
I laugh. “You totally had her fooled.”
“I’m pretty wasted. You care if I crash here for old times’ sake?” he asks causing my brows to furrow.
“Do what?”
“Just for the night. I won’t make it a habit. I promise. I’m not ready to go home,” he rushes out calmly. “Please.”
“I…”
“You think your boyfriend will mind? If so, then I’ll hit up a hotel.”
That’s the million-dollar question. I know if the tables were turned, I don’t know how I would feel. I’d like to think I’m secure enough to understand the situation and trust him. I’ve never given Nathan a reason to doubt me, but I’ve never had a guy spend the night either. I just hope he understands.
“You can stay here, but only tonight,” I say sternly. “Don’t think about bringing back old habits. I don’t want to upset him. It’s new and I really like him.”
“Doodle swoons over a boy,” he teases. “Don’t worry. This is my last time. I’m a grown ass man too drunk for my own good.”
“Okay.” I slap the armrest and stand up. “I’m going to bed. Sleep well.”
“Hey, Doodle,” he calls out. “Thank you for never changing who you are. I really appreciate you letting me crash here.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
My flight isn’t until noon, and I’m desperate for a kiss before I go since I didn’t get to see her yesterday and I won’t for a few more days. Last night, I debated on surprising her before I left, but since I woke up to two texts—one telling me she was home and the other stating she ran into a friend last night and he…HE…needed a place to crash and that he was on the couch—that settled it.
I love that she’s so honest. Am I happy that she offered someone her couch? No. There are a lot of crazy people in the world with ulterior motives. I’m not the jealous type and I know if she was doing anything wrong, she wouldn’t have told me. But I’m a man and I need what’s mine to be known.
There’s a shuffling noise on the other side of the door after I knock. Her hair sits on top of her head in a messy bun. Her eyes are tired but excited to see me and she’s in my shirt.