But as he hit the top of the stairs, he heard peels of laughter. Women gasping for air. And then Monica’s voice, clear as day. “You’re joking. Oh my God, get her over here right now!”
As much as he was jonesing to see her, she was having fun.
So he headed back to the garage.
The first thing he thought when he stepped into his apartment was that the couch really did work better over against the wall, where Monica had put it.
He shoved it across the room, then did a slow circle. What else could he do to improve the place?
Fuck, he should have painted. Ripped out walls. Replaced the bathroom.
Adam and Isla did a DIY bathroom reno and it looked great. He should have asked them to help him with his place.
Why had he lived in it pretty much exactly as he’d found it? It was horrible.
The peel of laughter he just heard deserved a much nicer space than this, even for a short visit.
She won’t be visiting again.
He rubbed his chest. Fuck.
Maybe he was too hasty in leaving California. If they found a new kind of friendly peace on the other side of divorce, would he want to be closer to her?
But that just made him think about how sweet she tasted beneath him.
Friends.
Ha.
And now his cock was thickening like it had any chance in hell of a repeat encounter with Monica. That was a middle of the night, bittersweet one-off.
He ground his teeth together and thought of what might distract him. Dishes. Laundry. Starting to tear down the wood paneling that made the apartment so dark…
All of it reminded him of Monica.
The glass they shared last night was next to the sink.
Laundry would include her clothes, the only time it ever would.
And while taking a sledgehammer to the paneling did have a certain appeal, if there was a chance she was staying another night, he couldn’t turn this place into a construction zone.
She’ll probably stay with her mother.
Right.
He knew that.
Fuck.
He rubbed his chest, then went downstairs to dig into the never ending admin work for the garage. He was running a seasonal tire swap clinic starting on Wednesday, for four days leading up to the charity weekend Catie ran, that would culminate in the bachelor auction. He needed to—
Fucking fuck.
He winced and sat heavily in his creaky old desk chair. He needed to get out of the bachelor auction. For one thing, it wasn’t technically true. For another, he would feel awkward as fuck pretending to be an eligible anything so soon after…
After…
And now he was thinking about last night again.
