Can’t argue with that. I’m scoring better than I ever have, finally told my old man to fuck off after years of trying to earn a single compliment, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting to be replaced.
I’ve got the girl. The dog. The ring. A team that feels like family. The best sex of my life on a daily basis, and a therapist who reminds me I’m not actually responsible for how my dad treats me.
So yeah, I’m allowed to miss Lulu when she’s late. I’m allowed to twitch.
Eli’s quiet at the end of the table, eyes sharp. Watching like he always does.
We’ve made our peace, mostly. But I can still feel the static, the part of him that’s still not sure he trusts me with her heart. I can’t blame him for being protective, but he doesn’t know whatI’d do to keep her heart safe. Maybe he’ll never fully understand, and that’s fine.
So long as she does.
“How long’s it been now?” Chase asks.
I check my phone. “Forty-two minutes.”
Jake whistles. “Reid’s knee rehab sessions are shorter.”
“Speaking of,” Zoe says, “he texted the group chat earlier. Complained about the team physio openly berating him. And that doctor. What’d he call her again—Doctor Doom?”
“Yeah.” I take a sip. “Says she’s ruining his life.”
Charlie grins. “Which probably means he’s in love with her.”
“Man’s too grumpy for that,” Chase says.
I’m only half listening as I glance at the door again. Still nothing.
“She probably stopped for fuel,” Tamara says lightly, sensing the tension. “Or maybe they ran into Betty’s latest boyfriend and had to stage an escape.”
Zoe smirks. “Did she tell you about the time Betty once faked a British accent to seduce a French winemaker?”
“I thought he was Italian?” Jake asks.
“No,thatwas the guy she met in the customs line,” Charlie says.
Chase grins. “Icon behavior.”
I’m about to respond when the front door swings open.
Lulu steps in first, hair swishing, lips glossy, a red fur coat thrown over one shoulder. She spots me immediately, and as her lips curve into a smirk, she mouths:Miss me?
Behind her, Betty enters like she’s crashing a press junket.
She’s wearing a leopard-print wrap dress, oversized sunglassesinside, and a fur stole that looks vaguely illegal.
“Christ,” Chase whispers. “It’s the apocalypse.”
Gary looks up from behind the bar—and freezes.
For the first time in recorded history, Gary loses his words.
Betty clocks him just as fast, sliding her glasses down her nose. She smiles slow, like a tiger stretching.
“Well, well,” she purrs, “you must be the man with the jukebox that only plays Nickelback.”
Gary wipes his hands on a bar towel and blinks. “And you must be the one with the gin problem and no filter.”
“Buy me a drink and I’ll show you what else I’ve got.”
