Before I can protest, she scoops Jameson off the stool. “Time for bed, baby.”
He still has twenty minutes left before his bedtime, so he’s not happy about this.
Sorry, buddy. I’ll make it up to him during our next visit.
The second she’s gone, I book it the hell out of there.
Becca will be pissed that I left her high and dry, but I’ll text her later and tell her I had an emergency.
I’m heading for the staircase when I hear her screech, “What the fuck, Preston?”
After slipping my wedding band back on my finger, I head inside the house and make a beeline for the kitchen so I can grab a beer.
“You’re such a good boy,” Kit coos from what sounds like the living room. “Here’s another one.”
Curious what her and that damn dog are up to, I close the fridge and make my way to where she is.
I find her sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table that’s littered with stacks of folded papers and envelopes.
Appearing focused, I watch as she stuffs one of the papers into an envelope before turning to the bulldog who happily licks the seal for her.
Aside from bath time, he worships the ground she walks on.
That makes two of us.
“Wait.” She picks up a book of stamps and tears one off so Lola can slobber on that, too. “Don’t forget the stamp.”
Kit’s not a slave driver, though because after he does all that, she gives him a treat. “Good boy.”
I can’t help but laugh because she’s so fucking weird in all the best ways.
My laughter gives me away and she shifts on the floor to face me. “Hey.” She places the envelope she’s holding on the table. “You’ve been gone all day. Where were you?”
I’m running out of excuses. There’s only so many errands I can say I’m running before she starts to suspect something is amiss.
Like me gambling…which is hard as fuck not to succumb to.
Especially now that I can’t indulge in my new favorite pastime…playing with Kit’s pussy.
Apparently, she’s having the world’s longest period.
Either that or she’s intentionally shutting me down…which makes no fucking sense because I know she’s into it.
“Preston?” Kit questions, still waiting for an answer.
The lie leaves my lips before I can fully think it through. “I went to see my mom.”
It’s clear by the way her eyebrows rise up that this surprises her.
Ditto.
“Your mom? I thought you said she was bad news?”
No, she said she was bad news. I just didn’t bother correcting her because she wasn’t wrong.
I take a long swig of my beer. “We’re working on our relationship.”
The irony that I’ve been continually using a woman I haven’t spoken to in years and doesn’t give a flying fuck about me as an alibi isn’t lost on me.
I’m running different scenarios in my head so I can formulate a story about how we’re rekindling our imaginary relationship when the doorbell rings.
I go to answer it, but I hear several pairs of footsteps walk through the foyer.
A moment later Breslin, Landon, and my pinhead brother come barreling into the living room, holding what appears to be takeout bags.
“Why are you guys constantly at my house?”
Every fucking day I’m forced to see at least one, if not all three of them.
I don’t mind Landon so much—as long as he keeps his lips and hands off my wife—but the other two never fail to set my teeth on edge.
“Because they’re my friends,” Kit says, as though this should be obvious.
I tamp down the urge to walk over and slap my brother upside his big head just for breathing.
I’m seriously regretting not hightailing it the fuck out of here when I had the chance when Kit utters her next words.
“So, am I ever gonna meet your mom?”
Before I can answer, Breslin makes a face and says, “Only if you want to go to Boca Raton.”
And yet another reason I can’t stand Kit’s BFF. Not only does she watch over Kit like a Pitbull, she’s too damn nosy. I don’t need her filling Kit’s pretty head up with garbage about how she shouldn’t trust me.
“She’s actually in town now,” Kit says with a quick glance in my direction. “Preston saw her today.”
“Really?” Breslin turns to Asher. “Did you know she was in town?”
Nosy and suspicious.
She’d make one hell of a poker player.
I lock eyes with my brother from across the room, my glare leaving no room for misinterpretation. I’ll fucking kill you.
“Yeah,” Asher answers, turning back to his fiancée. “I forgot to mention it. She’s here visiting a few friends.” His nostrils flare when he eyes me again. “And apparently her youngest son.”
I’m sure everyone else is misconstruing his resentment as a result of being snubbed by our mother, but I know the truth.
He loathes being in the position of having to lie for me.
Tough fucking shit. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the least he can do.
Breaking up the tension, Breslin gestures to the coffee table. “What’s all this?”
Lola licks another envelope for Kit. “I’m sending out résumés. And yes, I know digital is the way to go, but I figured sending them old school would be a nice touch.” Her sigh is expansive. “I’ve been unemployed for five weeks already. I need to find a job soon, or I’m gonna have to resort to stripping.”
Over my dead fucking body. And even then, I’m sure my ghost would shut that shit down, too.
The trio exchange a bemused glance before Landon expresses what they’re all thinking. “Aren’t you going to be a billionaire soon?”
“Yeah.” She holds up a stamp for Lola. “But I’m not a billionaire now.”
My palms itch with need. If she would just let me go to the goddamn casino, I could win enough to get us by.
Asher starts pulling some containers out of a bag. “Well, me and a few of my teammates are actually looking to hire someone to run all our social media accounts. Let me make a few phone calls and set up some interviews so they can meet you.”
Kit frowns. “I appreciate that, but I don’t need a handout.”
That’s right, angry girl. Tell the bastard to kick rocks.
“No, you need a job. And we need a good social media person.” Despite Kit’s protests, Asher stands. “I’m gonna make those phone calls.”
I don’t miss his not-so-subtle nod as he passes me on his way out of the living room.
I’m ninety-nine percent positive Asher won’t rat me out, but I’m not about to roll the dice on the one percent that he will, so I give him this one.
“I’m gonna take a shower.”
I follow Asher out the patio doors leading to the backyard. He waits for me to close them before he speaks.
“Where were you really?”
He must have taken a few too many hits to the head because I owe him nothing. Least of all an explanation for my whereabouts.
“None of your goddamn business.”
He runs a hand down his face, appearing thoroughly frustrated with that answer.