Chapter 5
5
B y the time they were interviewing the second cleaning service on Tuesday afternoon, Jude was sure of two things. The first was that Tommy was right—he was in love with Brynn. And the second was that he was never going to survive it.
It was like he’d been wearing sunglasses for nine months, but now they’d been torn away, and he was forced to face the sunlight for the first time. It was brilliant and beautiful and breathtaking and it was killing him.
He had no idea if Tommy’s claim that she wanted him back was accurate or not because he couldn’t concentrate enough to pay attention. He was so caught up in his own staggering realization he couldn’t seem to focus on anything else, including the poor woman trying to sell him on her cleaning service. Thank God Brynn was there to do most of the talking because the most he’d managed to contribute to the conversation was his name and ‘hello’.
So when his phone rang while Brynn was explaining the kind of service they were looking for to Maria from Maid For You—or maybe it was Meridith, he couldn’t remember—he gratefully excused himself to take it.
He stepped out into the hall, the better to escape the fog of feelings short-circuiting his brain, and answered the phone. “Grant, hey. What’s up?”
“A lot,” Grant said, sounding pissed. “I’ve been talking to the cops for the last hour.”
“The cops?”
“Yeah. That little shit fuck Adam in accounting embezzled half a million dollars.”
Jude blinked. “What the hell?”
“You can say that again.” Grant heaved a sigh. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time—the cops still need to talk to me, and I need to get an auditor in here ASAP—but I wanted to give you what I could.”
Jude took the phone away from his ear, put it on speaker, and opened his notes app. “Go.”
He took notes for the next few minutes while Grant talked and only refrained from asking questions because his smooth-talking agent sounded so frazzled.
“That’s all I’ve got for now,” Grant finished. “I’ve got to get back in there.”
“Right. Thanks for the update.”
“No problem. I’m sorry about this, Jude.”
“You didn’t steal the money,” Jude reminded him.
“I hired the asshole who did,” Grant shot back. “I’m gonna fucking fry that little shit.”
Jude winced, grateful he wasn’t on the receiving end of Grant’s wrath. “Do you need anything?”
“No, but thanks. I need to get back.”
“Talk to you later,” Jude said and ended the call just as the apartment door opened, and a smiling Brynn walked out with the cleaning lady.
“Thanks so much for coming by,” Brynn said, darting a questioning glance at Jude. Grant, he mouthed, and she nodded. Reaching out to hit the elevator button, she turned her attention back to the other woman. “We’re meeting with one other company this afternoon, and then we’ll be making a decision. You can expect a call from us by tomorrow.”
“Wonderful.” With a professional smile, Maria—he really thought it might be Maria—shook Brynn’s hand, then his.
“Thanks for coming,” Jude said, giving her his best I’m-sorry-I-was-a-bonehead smile. “Sorry I had to step out.”
“No problem at all.” The elevator chimed behind her, and she dropped his hand and stepped inside. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
“Thanks, Joan,” Brynn said.
Joan? Jude waited until the elevator doors had slid shut. “I thought her name was Maria.”
“It’s Joan,” Brynn said, blinking owlishly behind her glasses.
“Right,” he muttered, trying not to stare at her. She was wearing another sundress, this one in a soft blue that set off the tan she’d acquired over the last couple of days. It was subtle—just a hint of color, really—but it brought out the freckles on her shoulders and made her skin glow, and it wasn’t helping his can’t-think-about-anything-but-Brynn problem.
“I have to take Tilly for a walk,” she said, and he noticed for the first time that the dog was sniffing along the carpet behind him. “Do you want to come along?”
“Sure.” Maybe some fresh air would clear his head. “I’ll just grab my shoes.”
He keyed open the door, jammed his bare feet into his sneakers, and turned to find her in the elevator, one hand on Tilly’s leash, the other holding the door for him. He thought about being trapped in there for the short ride to the lobby, the air filled with her scent, nowhere to go, and sweat popped out on the back of his neck. “I’ll just…take the stairs,” he said, gesturing feebly toward the door at the end of the hall, and bolted before she could ask any awkward questions like, why are you acting like this is your first day as a person?
He beat the elevator to the lobby, not surprising since he’d all but sprinted down the stairs, and tried to use his time alone in the cool, quiet space to manifest. I can act normally , he told himself, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. I can act normally. This is not my first day as a person.
“Jude?” Brynn said, and he opened his eyes.
She’d put on sunglasses, dark lenses in oversized frames that dwarfed her face and hid her eyes, and he relaxed a little. It was easier to relax when he couldn’t see her eyes, which was a surprise. He could put the thighs, and the tits, and even the ass, fine as it was, out of his mind, but somehow her eyes were Kryptonite.
“You ready?” she asked, and he pushed off the wall and opened the door.
“After you.”
She walked out ahead of him—and okay, he looked at her ass, but only for a second—then followed her out and fell into step beside her, heading up the block with Tilly in the lead. It had rained briefly earlier, and puddles still dotted the tree-lined sidewalk, gently steaming, the air humid and thick.
“So, what’d he say?”
“Who?” Jude asked absently, squinting into the sun. Tilly was weaving back and forth at the end of the six-foot leash, sniffing at the pavement like she was trying to inhale it.
“Grant.”
“Right. Grant.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, it turns out it wasn’t a paperwork screw-up.”
A little line formed between her eyebrows. “What was it, then?”
“Embezzlement.”
She stumbled to a halt and yanked her sunglasses off. “I’m sorry?”
He stopped beside her and tried not to look directly into her eyes. “Your contact in accounting, Adam?”
“The one who told me it was standard to not pay assistants in the off-season?”
Jude nodded. “He’s been skimming accounts. Not just yours,” he continued while Brynn gaped like a fish. “But several other clients, too. The whole Toronto office is a mess. When Chloe started digging and asking questions, he panicked. Said he was sick, went straight to the airport, and bought a one-way ticket.”
“To where?”
This was his favorite part. “Saskatchewan.”
Brynn blinked. “He tried to flee from Canada to…Canada?”
Jude grinned. “Uh-huh.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then Tilly barked and yanked on the leash, and she rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Tilly.” She put her sunglasses back on and started walking again. “So, what happens now?”
“They’re still sorting it out,” Jude said, matching her pace. “They’ve got a lot of files to go through, to figure out exactly how much he stole from who. And they have to get him back from Saskatchewan, which will take time. But Grant said Chloe figured out how much I owe you, so?—”
“Hold on.” She stopped again. “How much you owe me?”
“Yeah.”
She shook her head. “Adam the asshole owes me, not you.”
“It’s going to be months before we’re able to get any money back from him—if we get any,” he pointed out. “I’m not making you wait.”
The line appeared between her eyebrows again. “But how are you the one on the hook?”
“Because I’m the boss,” he said simply. “You’ll be getting a direct deposit sometime in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. After taxes and withholdings, it’ll be about twenty-five thousand.”
Even with the sunglasses on, he could see her eyes go wide. “Dollars?”
The squeak in her voice made him want to smile. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Um.” She turned in a slow circle, wrapping the leash around her knees. Tilly, who was squatting by a tree, squawked in protest. “Shit, sorry.”
“Here, I’ll take her,” Jude said, unwinding the leash from around her legs, then shot out a hand when she sat right down on the sidewalk. “Hey! You okay?”
“Uh-huh,” she replied. Her head was between her knees, so her voice was muffled. “Did you say twenty-five thousand?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t seem to be in any actual physical distress, so he sat down on the sidewalk next to her. “You need anything? Something to drink?”
She shook her head, her hair swishing over her knees. “No.”
He frowned. Her voice was thick, like she was getting a cold. Or crying. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” she sniffed and picked up her head. Her sunglasses had slid down her nose, and there were tears shimmering in her eyes.
“You’re crying,” he accused and, thinking only to comfort, laid a hand on her back.
Her skin was bared by her dress, soft and smooth and warmed by the sun. Like forbidden fruit, he thought and dropped his hand.
She sniffed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to blubber.”
Struggling to focus, he nodded. “It’s okay. The last few months must have been rough.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice thick. “I don’t think I realized how rough until just now.”
“That’s understandable,” he said, hoping it was the right thing to say. He’d thought a lot about her situation over the last couple of days, but about how it affected him. He didn’t think he’d realized until just now how much strain she’d been under, broke and technically homeless, and shame washed over him. “Blubber all you need to, I don’t mind.”
“Thanks.” With a wobbly smile, she wiped her cheeks. “I guess I should start looking for an apartment.”
Done watering the tree, Tilly shoved her nose under his elbow and tried to wiggle into his lap. He lifted his arm to let her. “There’s no rush. You can stay with me as long as you need to.”
“Oh. Um. I appreciate that,” she began, her gaze dropping as her cheeks turned pink. “But we’re in your way, so?—”
“You’re not,” he interrupted.
“How is that possible?” she asked, her color deepening. “This morning Tilly snuck into the shower with you. And farted.”
“I shower with twenty other guys on the regular,” he reminded her. “Trust me, she’s an upgrade.”
That made her snicker, but she still looked uncertain.
“I’m just saying you don’t have to sign a lease tomorrow,” he went on. “Take your time, find the right place. If it happens tomorrow, great. If it takes a couple of weeks?” He shrugged. “That’s fine too.”
She bit her lip, gnawing on it the way she did when she was uncertain. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said, then sputtered when Tilly reared up to lick his face, and her tongue slipped into his mouth.
Brynn looked on with amusement. “Still think she’s an upgrade?”
Using both hands, he forced Tilly’s head away from his face. “I’d rather have her kissing me than Jakes, so yeah.”
Brynn laughed. “If Jakes ever kisses you and you don’t let me put it on social media, I’m going to be so mad.”
“My guess is Tommy will only kiss me if we win the Stanley Cup, at center ice,” he said and nudged Tilly off his lap. He swiped at his mouth to get rid of the dog spit, then gathered the leash and got to his feet. “So you’ll probably get scooped by ESPN.”
“Those vultures,” she said, smiling.
“Tell me about it,” he said and held out a hand to help her up.
She stayed where she was, perched on the pavement with her arms circling her updrawn knees, her sunglasses on top of her head, looking up at him, and for a moment, it seemed as though he could see everything he felt reflected in those Bambi eyes. Lust and longing and nerves and hope—it was all there, shining back at him so bright and strong that he was half a heartbeat from dropping to his knees.
Then her lashes swept down, shielding her eyes, and he dipped lower, trying to maintain eye contact. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, and because he was leaning forward, she bumped into him. It knocked him back half a step and he reached out, grabbing her shoulders for balance. She put hers on his chest, and just like that they were holding each other.
She was so close he could see the way her lashes clumped together, still damp with tears, and the teeth marks on her bottom lip from where she’d bitten it. Her breasts were against his chest, small and soft and rising and falling rapidly with her breathing, the skin on her chest now the same bright pink as her cheeks.
“Oh!” she said, her eyes wide with shock and surprise, and the husky note in her voice made him want to swallow her whole, right there on the sidewalk.
“Sorry,” he managed, his mind a scramble as he tried to absorb all the stimulus at once. The smooth roundness of her shoulders under his hands, the faintly sweet scent of her breath. Her hands on his chest, small and warm and not moving but kind of flexing, like she was testing the resiliency of the muscles there, and the unmistakable stab of hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.
“No, no,” she said breathlessly. “It was my fault. I stood up too fast.”
Her nipples were hard. Why were her nipples hard? Was she turned on? Did she like this? Did she like him?
“It’s fine,” he croaked, staring at her forehead and trying not to think about her nipples. Or her thighs, which were pressed against his and just as delightful as he’d imagined them to be. He couldn’t think about her eyes either because the surprise had faded and the longing was back, and any minute now he was either going to say something foolish or do something foolish or maybe both if he didn’t get himself under control. Hence the staring at her forehead.
Unfortunately, he had excellent peripheral vision, so he had no trouble seeing her lick her lips. “Jude?”
I’m going to die right here on the street, with a boner the size of Montana. “Yeah?”
“Are you—ow!”
“Shit, sorry,” he said, forcing his hand away from her head and giving the leash a firm tug. On the other end, Tilly gave him a confused look. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Brynn said, rubbing at her ear. “What was that?”
“Tilly,” he said apologetically, holding his hand up to show her the leash wrapped around it. “She yanked, and my hand kind of skidded off your shoulder.”
“Into my head,” Brynn finished, aiming a glare at the dog, and to Jude’s deep regret, took a step back. “You’re such a dick, Tilly.”
And a cock-block, Jude added silently. Tilly, oblivious to Jude’s wrath and uncaring of Brynn’s, started walking.
“Here, I’ve got her.” Brynn took the leash from Jude and followed.
“Oh. Okay,” he said, trying to force enough blood back to his brain to function. By the time he managed to put one foot in front of the other, they were several paces ahead of him, and he had to rush to catch up. “Brynn?”
“Yeah?”
“Were you, um, about to ask me something? You know, before I hit you in the head?”
“Oh.” She reached up and pulled her sunglasses off her head, sliding them back on before looking at him. “It’s not important.”
“You sure?” he prompted, trying to see her eyes behind the glasses. “It sounded like it might be.”
Her chest was flushed pink again, but she shook her head. “No. We should hurry. The last cleaning company will be here soon.”
“Right,” he said, and shoving his hands into his pockets so no one would see his boner, followed her back to the apartment.
Once the cleaning company had come and gone, Jude decided to meet a couple of teammates for dinner, and Brynn stretched out on the sofa. She had the Tiger’s game on the television and a bowl of popcorn that she was calling dinner on her lap. When the game broke for commercial, she picked up the phone.
“Hey, Bee,” Amy answered the phone, sounding distracted. “What’s up?”
“A lot. Are you busy?”
“Just working on my thesis and questioning my life choices. “How’re you? Did they figure out what happened with your money?”
“That sack of shit Adam in accounting stole it.”
“What?”
“Yep,” Brynn said and filled her in.
“Wow,” Amy said when she’d finished. “I would not have guessed embezzlement.”
“I know. Wild, right?”
“That’s one word for it. Did the money hit your account yet?”
“Not yet. They said it could take a couple of days.”
“Well, as soon as it lands, you can start putting in applications for apartments. Where are you looking?”
“Um, a few places,” Brynn hedged.
There was a pause, then Amy all but growled, “Brynn Heloise Cates.”
“Why are you three naming me?” Brynn asked, trying to project innocence.
It didn’t work. “You haven’t even started looking, have you?”
“Of course I have,” Brynn bluffed. “I have a whole list.”
“A whole list, huh?”
“And I already have it narrowed down to three places,” Brynn boasted.
“Okay. Name them.”
“Name them?”
“And their locations,” Amy added. “You’re so organized, I know you have their locations mapped out, too.”
Shit, shit, shit. “Fine,” Brynn replied and prepared to bluff. “City Apartments on Woodward Avenue.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Riverside Condos on Atwater Street,” Brynn continued.
“Condos?” Amy said, the skepticism in her voice so thick Brynn could almost taste it. “You’re looking to buy?”
“They have rental units,” Brynn said defensively.
“Sure they do. What’s the third one?”
“Um…The Detroit Tower.”
“On?” Amy prompted.
Brynn tried, she honestly did, but she really was a shit liar. “Detroit Street?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Amy announced.
Brynn gave up with a sigh. “I know.”
“Is this a fetish?”
Brynn choked on a piece of popcorn. “Excuse me?”
“This unrequited lust thing,” Amy elaborated. “Is it some kind of self-torture fetish? Because I can’t come up with any other explanation, and I want you to know there are healthier ways to explore these kinds of desires.”
Brynn rolled her eyes and nudged Tilly away from the popcorn bowl. “No, it’s not a fetish. And it might not be unrequited.”
“What?”
“We had a moment,” Brynn admitted.
“What kind of a moment?” Amy demanded.
Brynn rolled her eyes. “We didn’t have sex, so calm down. It was like a…a romance novel moment.”
“A romance novel moment,” Amy repeated.
“Yeah, you know. A ‘their eyes met, and desire was thick in the air’ kind of a thing.”
“First, that would be a terrible romance novel.”
“Hey.”
“Second, I’m going to need more than that.”
Brynn shoved another pillow behind her head. “Well, we were walking the dog, and he was telling me about the twenty-five thousand, and I had to stop and get my breath because that was a lot.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Amy said, impatient. “Get to the moment.”
“And we sat and talked for a minute,” Brynn said, refusing to be rushed. “And when he got up, he held out his hand to help me up.”
“If you’re going to tell me something asinine like you couldn’t tell where his hand ended and yours began, I swear to God, Brynn?—”
“I’m not going to tell you that,” Brynn interrupted in a near shout, then huffed out a breath. “You have no romance in your soul.”
“I’m getting a PhD in Medieval history,” Amy said. “I am filled with romance.”
Brynn snorted. “May I continue?”
“By all means, do go on.”
“As I was saying,” Brynn said, ignoring the sarcasm. “He reached down to help me up, but I guess I pulled him off balance, so we sort of bumped into each other, you know like you do? And he grabbed my shoulders, and I kind of grabbed his chest as we were smushed up against each other, and I could feel everything ? — ”
“Happy Pants?” Amy interrupted.
“Definite Happy Hants, and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he was staring at my forehead for some reason, so I started to ask him if he was going to kiss me, but then that absolute dork of a dog ,” Brynn went on with a glare for Tilly, who was trying to Jedi-mind-trick the popcorn bowl, “yanked on the leash and hit me in the ear and it kind of killed the mood.”
“The dog hit you in the ear?” Amy asked, confused.
“No, Jude did. He was holding the leash, and when Tilly yanked it, his hand slipped off my shoulder and hit my ear.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for so long that Brynn tapped the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “Amy?”
“I’m still here.”
“That’s a moment, right?”
“It’s a moment of something,” Amy agreed. “Did you ask him?”
“No,” Brynn admitted. “I lost my nerve.”
“So what happened?”
“We came back to the apartment and interviewed a cleaning service. They’ll do grocery shopping and meal prep, so I think we’re going with them.”
“How nice. Move out now.”
Brynn blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. I’m sending you money for a hotel, you can pay me back when your twenty-five k drops. Go pack.”
“I’m not packing, Amy. Get a grip.”
“You get a grip. If you don’t get out now, you’re going to end up losing your job over bad sex.”
“How do you know it would be bad?” Brynn demanded, offended on Jude’s behalf. Hell, she was offended on her behalf.
“Because hot guys are terrible in bed.”
“Not all hot guys,” Brynn began.
“Nope, all of them. They think their looks mean they don’t have to put in any effort,” Amy said, her voice tinged with annoyance and disgust. “So they twist your nipples a few times, finger your clit—if they can find it—then shove it in and pound away for seven seconds. And when it’s over, they act like they just gifted you a winning lottery ticket.”
“Damn,” Brynn marveled. “Who did that?”
“Drake Simpson, sophomore year of college. The hottest guy I’ve ever dated and the worst lover.”
“Oh, I remember him. He was hot.”
“For all the good it did,” Amy muttered. “A box of hair has more self-awareness. He was genuinely baffled when I told him I didn’t come, and genuinely hurt when I told him why. Nobody had ever told him how bad he was in bed.”
“Well, that can be a tough thing to say to somebody,” Brynn began.
“And that right there is the reason hot guys are shit in bed,” Amy declared. “Nobody is willing to tell truth to hotness.”
Brynn grinned at the ceiling. “You should put that on a t-shirt.”
“Ha, ha. My point is, fucking Jude will likely not live up to your fantasies.”
“It could,” Brynn protested.
“Fine. Let’s say it does. In fact, let’s assume for the sake of argument that he has a magic dick, and sex with him is the greatest sex in the history of the universe. It’s so amazing and transformative that it ends poverty, world hunger, and all wars while simultaneously reversing climate change and restoring the oceans.”
“Wow.” Brynn blinked. “That’s some good fucking.”
“But then after, you lose your job, because that’s what happens when you sleep with your boss,” Amy continued. “And with a rep for sleeping with the boss, no one else will hire you. So you’ll have to take an office job, you’ll work sixty hours a week as a corporate stooge and be so spiritually beat down and exhausted that fun will be nothing but a fond memory. All for dick.”
“Don’t you think not solving world hunger just to keep my job is a little selfish?”
“It would be,” Amy agreed, “if his dick was capable of working such magic. But that’s a fantasy. In the real world, dick is abundant and of low value and not worth losing a six-figure job. ”
“ Low value is kind of harsh,” Brynn grumbled.
“But accurate,” Amy countered. “I’m sending you money, and you’re getting a hotel.”
“Will you calm down? Nothing happened.”
“There was Happy Pants,” Amy reminded her.
“And if something does happen,” Brynn continued calmly, staving off a hot flash at the memory. “Well, I’ll jump off that bridge when it’s on fire.”
“An apt metaphor,” Amy muttered.
“Is it so bad to want to see where this goes?” Brynn demanded.
“Bad? No. Foolish? Oh, yeah.”
“I know you’re worried about me,” Brynn began.
“I am worried,” Amy said, then she sighed. “And also a little jealous.”
“Jealous?” Brynn echoed, confused. “Why?”
“Because I can’t remember the last time I did something foolish. It might end in disaster—hell, who are we kidding? It’s definitely going to end in disaster?—”
“Your confidence in me is overwhelming,” Brynn said drily.
“—but at least you’re going after what you want.”
Brynn paused, wondering if she should say it out loud, then figured, what the hell. “Amy, why don’t you just go find Isaac and jump his bones?”
Amy’s answering laugh was sharp and brittle. “Because he’s engaged.”
Brynn shot up off the couch, nearly upending the popcorn bowl and sending Tilly scrambling. “When the hell did this happen?”
“Well, maybe not engaged,” Amy amended. “But your mom said his girlfriend wants him to go back to Virginia with him to meet her parents over Christmas.”
Brynn moved the popcorn to higher ground. “Are you talking about Brittney?”
“She prefers ‘Britty’!” Amy chirped with palpable sarcasm.
“My brother is not engaged to Brittney.” She hoped. “Mom would’ve told me.”
“Well, he’s dating her, anyway. I saw them at the market last week buying a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Wine and mint-flavored Oreos.”
Brynn wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”
“I know. I wanted to make a snarky comment, but there were so many to choose from they were gone before I could pick one.”
“He’s not serious about her, Ames. You know that, right?”
“He’s never serious. That’s just one of the reasons telling him how I feel is not an option.”
“So you’re just going to pine forever?”
“I’m not pining,” Amy protested. “I’m getting my Ph.D., I’m teaching classes at two colleges. And one day, hopefully very soon, I will fall out of love with Isaac Cates.”
“Too bad,” Brynn said, making her voice deliberately light. “I would’ve liked being sisters with you for real.”
“Take it up with Britty’s boyfriend,” Amy muttered.
“Do you want me to?”
“Oh, Jesus no,” Amy blurted out. “I was kidding. ”
“Because I will,” Brynn offered. “Just say the word.”
“I’d kill you,” Amy declared. “Right before I died of humiliation.”
“Well, at least we could have a double funeral,” Brynn said, smiling. “You think they give a two-for-one discount on burials?”
“No,” Amy said. “Please, Brynn, don’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” Brynn promised. “I just wish…well, you know.”
“I know. Me, too.” There was a moment of silence, then Amy cleared her throat. “Okay, that’s enough about my pitiful love life. Change the subject, please.”
“I’m going with Jude to his workout tomorrow,” Brynn said, obliging. “To take pictures for his social media.”
“Self-torture fetish,” Amy muttered.
“Then he’s skating with some teammates, and I’m going to film that, too.”
“For social media, right?”
“Of course.”
“Uh-huh. Fifty bucks says you’re fucking by the weekend.”
“I have more willpower than that ,” Brynn bluffed.
“And a hundred says you’re out of a job by October first.”
“Amy!” Brynn gasped, genuinely shocked. “That is a terrible bet to make.”
“That’s smart money,” Amy countered. “But fine, let’s pretend this lust train isn’t headed for a head-on collision with the brick wall of reality.”
“Can we go back to you being jealous? I liked that better.”
“I’m still jealous. It’s called multi-tasking.”
“I’m done talking to you now,” Brynn declared.
“Okay,” Amy said, unoffended. “Call me tomorrow after you’re done filming. You know, if you’re not riding dick.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you, too. Hey, Bee?”
“What?”
“All kidding aside, you know you can call me, right? Anytime, about anything.”
“I know.” Mollified, and knowing she was loved, Brynn blinked back tears. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
Brynn disconnected the call and tossed the phone aside, then thumbed the remote to turn up the volume on the television. It was the bottom of the third inning, and the Tigers had two men on with no outs.
“Forget it,” she told Tilly, gathering the popcorn bowl closer, and putting everything else aside, prepared to enjoy the game.