"Which one am I?"
"You're more of a 'refuses to ask for directions and ends up in emotional Nebraska' type."
He laughed, low and warm. "And you're what, exactly?"
"A disaster with good intentions and a laminating addiction."
"You're changing lives." His voice went serious in that way that made my chest tight. "These kids, they're lucky to have you."
Before I could deflect with humor, my phone erupted with Maria's ringtone.
Her face materialized on screen, predatory grin already in place. "Speaker. Now. I need to address the room."
"Maria, we're working—"
"SPEAKER, Serena, or I'm telling Brad about Vegas."
I stabbed the speaker button like it had personally wronged me. "You're on speaker."
"Excellent. Bradley, you beautiful catastrophe, can you hear me?"
"Unfortunately," Brad said, but he was smiling.
"Perfect. Item one: Theo is a menace to society and I might marry him. We've been sexting via hockey metaphors and I'm uncomfortably turned on by penalty box references."
"MARIA."
"Item two: You two idiots need to stop pretending you're not basically married already. I've seen actual married couples with less domestic synchronicity."
"We're roommates," I said desperately.
"Temporary roommates," Brad added, like that helped.
"Right. Temporary roommates who share meals, raise a child, and eye-fuck across the dinner table while discussing adaptive learning. Very platonic. Much temporary."
"Maria, I swear to God—"
"Item three: Dinner party. Saturday. Seven sharp. Theo's handling wine because apparently he knows a guy who knows a guy who robbed a vineyard or something equally ridiculous. Finn's invited for appetizers, then Brad’s teammate—the one who looks like a golden retriever—will babysit so we can have adult conversation. And by adult conversation, I mean wine and interrogation."
"Maria!"
"Serena, wear that black dress that makes your tits look phenomenal. Brad, Theo says you own one shirt that doesn't have a team logo on it—wear that."
"This is harassment," I protested.
"It's an intervention disguised as dinner. Very different." I could hear her smile through the phone. "Brad, fair warning—I'm going to ask about your intentions with my best friend after exactly two drinks. Pace yourself accordingly."
"Noted," Brad said dryly.
"Oh, and Patricia called Theo seventeen times asking about Brad's availability. He told her Brad was in a committed relationship with someone who 'makes him smile like he just won the Stanley Cup.'"
My face burned. Brad's ears went pink.
"That's... specific," Brad managed.
"Theo's a romantic wrapped in the body of a chaos demon. You're welcome. See you Saturday!"
She hung up before we could protest further.
