Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Jay
The lock snicks open. That’s the only quiet sound of Liv coming home. Seconds later, there’s a hiss from Daphne about being too heavy to carry.
“I love you so much, Daffy Duck.” I have to stifle a laugh at that one.
“Olivia, we have made it through over twenty years of friendship without you calling me that, don’t start now.” Daph sounds frazzled, but it’s her tone that gets me moving.
I sit up slowly, feet hitting the floor as the front door flings open and Liv stumbles inside with her boots half-unzipped and her jacket slipping off one shoulder. She’s grinning, glassy-eyed, leaning into Daphne.
“It’s cute,” she says preemptively, blinking around the room like it’s new. “Jayyyyy. Hey, roomie. He’s so cute. Isn’t he cute, Daph?”
“As a button, Liv.”
“Hey,” I say quietly, standing. “You alright?”
“She’s just had a long night,” Daphne says, voice gentle. “Someone caught a shot tray on the way out and well… all that fresh air has made her more drunk.”
Liv swings an arm out toward her. “She’s mad because I called her Daffy Duck.”
Daphne shoots me a look that’s equal parts help me, and this is your problem now. She gently untangles herself from Liv and hands her to me. The sweet smell of apples and vanilla mixed with alcohol wafts over me as she leans in.
“Did she go hard on the punch, too?”
Daphne and Liv both laugh at the same time. “She went hard on everything. All the liquor.”
“Liquor is goooooooooood,” Liv purrs. She leans heavily into me, and before I can adjust, she’s practically curled against my side, trying to bury her face into my neck.
Her breath skates warm and slow over the sensitive part just below my ear, trailing down my collar where my Henley is unbuttoned at the top.
A shiver ripples down my spine, fast and involuntary. Goosebumps chase it, but I absolutely can’t let myself be affected by Liv right now.
I clear my throat and shift my weight, not quite pushing her away, but definitely trying to reestablish some version of spatial boundaries.
“Love you, Liv. I’ll call you tomorrow. Sorry, Jay.” Then Daphne leaves me with her best friend. Liv kicks off one boot, misses with the second, and gives up, slumping back into my body.
“Jay,” she shouts, when there’s really no need, I’m still holding her up, “I was very emotionally well-adjusted for most of the night. Just so you know.”
“Sounds like a wild success.”
“It was,” she sighs, already heading for the couch, slipping from my hands.
“I mean, I only cried like once, and that was with Daphne, so it doesn’t count.
Did you know she’s my bestest friend in the whole world?
” I maneuver her toward the couch, and she drops onto the cushion, but doesn’t let me answer.
I had a feeling it wasn’t something I needed to, anyway.
“Also, I may have renamed someone. It wasn’t on purpose.
But she didn’t correct me until, like, halfway through a full trauma download. And I still can’t remember her name.”
“Full download, you say?” I slip into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and hand it to her.
She takes it gratefully. “Yeah, but you don’t need to hear about it. You’re like… upsettingly competent.”
“Why is it upsetting?” I ask, kneeling before her to remove her other boot.
Shoes discarded, she sinks deeper into the couch with a hum, legs tucking under the blanket, not her purple one, but my duvet, and I watch as she inhales deeply and smiles. “You prep meals. You go on runs with me like it’s not the ass crack of dawn. And you save me from horrible dates.”
“Uhh, okay?” I sit beside her, not too close. “Do you want me to stop doing those things?”
“I haven’t decided,” she murmurs as she snuggles into the spot I just vacated and inhales again. “And you smell so, so good.”
“That’s probably the detergent,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.
“No,” she says, eyes closed. “It’s you. You’ve got domestic husband energy,” she hums, then continues, “No, wait… responsible dad energy. You’d never be a cheater or a liar, you’re too good, way too good for someone like me.”
I raise a brow, unsure if that’s what I’ve been going for, and what the hell am I supposed to say to that last comment?
“I’d never cheat, and I don’t like lying.
But Liv? I don’t wanna know that I have dad energy.
” I really hope no one can hear this conversation because it dies with me and drunk Liv.
She opens her eyes. “Sexy dad, though.”
I take a seat next to her, and she shuffles closer to me, I’m assuming to get another sniff, and almost climbs into my lap when my hands dart out to stop her.
“Whoa, okay, Liv,” I say, standing now, making sure she doesn’t fall off the couch.
Then I quickly realize she’s in my sofa bed, so I reach down to take her hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”
She hums, like she’s considering it. Then she gives me a wicked smile before she whispers, “Yes, Daddy.”
My knees nearly buckle. It’s a joke, I know that, but the sultry tone of her voice… my mind went somewhere very, very wrong.
“Olivia.”
She scrunches her nose, and her smile grows, slow and smug. “Oh, full-naming me, Daddy? Kinky.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face. I know she’s drunk, but man oh man, I’m never going to live this down. First fake husband, now Daddy, what will she think of next?
She’s clearly pleased with herself, and burrows deeper into the blanket like she didn’t just try to short-circuit my brain.
I stand there for a second, watching her settle into my pillow like it’s hers, and I’m still trying to catch up with the fact that she’s in my bed at all.
How in the name of all things good in the world does she look so fucking cute right now after going on a bender?
I clear my throat, trying to find some version of authority. “Alright. If you’re taking my bed, I’m taking yours.” Or technically mine again, since her bed isn’t here yet.
She lifts her head a little, brows pulling together in mock confusion. “You’re not joining me?”
I apologize to all the hookup gods but… “No, Liv, I’m not.”
She pouts at that, the real kind—bottom lip soft and full, eyes all glossy and dramatic. “Rude. You tuck me in, talk all deep like that, get my heart rate up, and then leave me?”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t weaponize your pout.”
“Don’t weaponize your voice,” she shoots back.
The corner of my mouth twitches, but I don’t let it turn into a smile.
I don’t move, either. I just stand there, studying her in the dim light, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her eyes glint under lowered lashes, the crimson flush across her cheeks from too much vodka and whatever she’s pretending not to feel.
I don’t know if it’s the blanket or the look she’s giving me or the fact that she’s in my bed, but something in the air feels alive.
“Wonder what it’ll take to get you into a girl’s bed…”
I lean down, unable to resist her curiosity. My arm rests just above her head on the sofa, and I let my eyes drop to her lips for a second and catalogue the slightest part of her mouth and the rise of her throat as she swallows.
“If I ever actually get into your bed, Olivia,” I say quietly, my voice even despite the adrenaline that’s spiking, “you’ll know exactly what I’m there for.”
Her smile falters, but she covers it with a soft, teasing exhale as she tucks herself tighter into the duvet. I straighten, turning off the lamp and backing toward the door, even as my pulse thrums hard.
“Sleep well, Liv.”
But before I reach the threshold, her voice follows me in the dark…
“Night, Daddy.”
I stop walking. Turn just enough to see her barely stifling a grin under the blanket.
“Olivia.”
“Yes, say it again,” she moans, loud enough to be inappropriate but dramatic enough to be fake.
At least I tell myself that as I pinch the bridge of my nose, close the door behind me, and head for her bed, jaw tight and thoughts already spiraling to places I know I have no business going because I fucking forgot that everything in here now smells like her.
And yeah, I’m not getting any sleep either.