"He's one of my roommates." I cringe. "I have… five."
His eyes widen in surprise. "Five? Wow. Really doing the whole Brooklyn hipster thing, huh?"
"I guess. I mean, after the divorce, this is really just what I could find." I sigh. "So… you've met the cat."
"I have," he agrees. "Listen, Brooke, I really don't want to poke at old wounds. Or any wounds. But you've mentioned the divorce a couple times—would I be out of line to ask about it?"
Dammit, he's right. I heave out another sigh and plop down on the bed next to Huey. He chirps awake but doesn't move. "You wouldn't be. It just… it sucks, you know? You don't get married with the intention of breaking up down the road, right?"
"Definitely not." He perches on my loveseat, which is thankfully clean of any late-night snacking crumbs. I watch with keen interest as he unzips his coat and folds it into a little square, placing it on the cushion next to him.His sweater rode up a little when he took off the jacket, and my eyes hone in on the little strip of exposed skin.
No. Stop it. This is professional. This is platonic. Right?
Right?
Dustin
Brooke'sapartmentissmallbut nice. Well, nice enough. Five roommates kind of threw me off, but she seems to be making the best of her situation. I watch her gently stroke the cat's back and listen to his lawnmower purr.
"So… what happened?" I gently ask. She smiles sadly and looks up at me, hand still on the cat.
"To be blunt, he cheated on me with… I don't even know how many women." She sniffs. "Do you know how humiliating it is to go to the gyno and ask for STD tests when you're married? I felt like everyone was looking at me with hate in their eyes.Oh, the wife was playing the field. Oh, she got caught.But I didn't—I would never."
"Jesus," I breathe. I consider myself to be a rational man, but I'd like Calvin's face to meet my fists. Repeatedly. "I'm so sorry."
"Oh, it gets worse!" Her smile looks a little more forced. "He filed for the divorce, but he fought me every step of the way. And… he comes from money, you know? He could afford the most cutthroat lawyers. I couldn't. I got lucky with mine—Angela is a queen, and she's given me a really fair payment plan. But the ink has been dry for six months, and I'm still paying. And nowhe'sgot a baby on the way."
Scratch that. I'm not rational at all. I want to pummel that asshole into the ground. I want to curb-stomp him into next week. I want to show him how we do things in Chicago. Or rather, howsomepeople do things in Chicago. I wonder if the rougher guys would teach me how to beat the living piss out of someone? Do they offer classes?
"And he keeps texting me and calling me and emailing me—after all this time, pestering me about some stupid baseball cards I know I don't have. He got everything… and I got this," she says with a single tear trailing down her cheek. "He's got a house in the New Jersey suburbs and a new… baby mama, I guess, I don't know their business. And I've got five roommates and a payment plan."
Before I can think at all, I leap to my feet and envelope Brooke into a silent embrace. Her cat chirps again and jumps to the floor. Sorry, Huey, but your mom needs all the love she can take right now. Wait, love? I mean, whatever. Affection. Someone to tell her she's enough, she's so good, she's so brave, and she never deserved any of the shit he put herthrough.
"I'm so sorry, Brooke. He's a dog-shit waste of a human. You never deserved any of that." I whisper into her slightly damp hair. "You're perfect. You're amazing. You're the strongest person I've ever met, and I'm so happy our paths crossed again."
She stiffens under my touch and lets out a watery laugh. "You're happy I yelled at you in a tourist shop?"
"I really am," I admit and chuckle. Apparently, that's all it takes for her to relax again, and I feel her arms circle around me. I ease myself onto the bed next to her and adjust our embrace, allowing her head to rest comfortably on my chest. It feels good. It feelsright.
"You wanna know something stupid? I am, too." She sniffles again. "But I keep crying on your shirts."
"I don't care." I really don't. "I'll buy waterproof shirts if I have to."
"God, you're such a dork," she mumbles.
I smile down at her fluffy green hair and watch as she tilts her head back to look up at me. Her red-ringed eyes contrast in a strangely beautiful way against the vibrant green of her irises. Would it be wrong of me to lean down and kiss her right now? Probably. I mean, we're professional acquaintances. Our past is so long ago.
All professional thoughts exit my brain as she tilts her head back again and leans into me, pressing her soft lips against mine. Oh, god. We're definitely doing this again. She feels so perfect pressed against me,and I can't stop my hands from clamping down around her delightfully squishy waistline.
Her tongue flicks between my lips, and a feral groan rumbles from my chest. Oh, shelikesthat. Brooke's hands squeeze around my shoulders, and we tip back on her bed—before I know it, she's straddling my waist and kissing me like her life depends on it. My hands flutter from her waist to that luscious ass. The image of my handprint flashes to mind, and I want that. I want thatbad.
But not enough to remove her from me. I want to feel her. I want to taste her. I want to latch on and never let go.
"Just one more time," Brooke murmurs into the kiss. "One more. Then it'll be out of our systems for real."
I don't believe her in the slightest, but I'm not about to let that stop me. I'll give her a thousand more times. I don't care that it's not realistic. Everything in this moment is realistic, logical brain be damned.
"One more time," I agree softly. She lets out a whimpering little moan, and my hands slide from her hips to her ass at the speed of light. I might have broken the sound barrier—we'll never know. And thatdress. She looks incredible, like she always does, but the skirt falls above her knees. With her thighs around my hips like this? Her ass cheeks are mine for the grabbing.
