She makes a face. “You said you thought he was going to punch him. What did he do instead?”
“Alex told him not to talk to his girlfriend like that.”
“Girlfriend, eh?” she drawls, her eyes widening with exaggerated interest.
I sigh. “He was in front of his family.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Where are you now?”
“In our room,” I say forlornly. My gaze drifts to the Christmas tree glowing in the corner, the only light in the room now. “Alex took me to a Christmas tree farm this morning. We got a Christmas tree for our bedroom.” I switch the view on my phone so she can see.
“Oh.” Her expression softens. “That’s one pretty tree.”
I laugh. “It’s full of leftover ornaments, and I put Alex’s stocking cap on for a topper. It’s not pretty, but that’s okay. No, it’s more than okay. It’s one of the best trees I’ve ever had.”
“Because you got it with Alex,” she finishes softly.
I don’t acknowledge it, even if it’s true. “I want to come home.”
Barb’s face freezes, then she narrows her eyes. “Turn around the camera. I want to see your face.”
I switch it back around.
“Why do you want to come home?”
“I’m causing drama with Alex’s family. It’s not fair to Grant.”
Her expression sharpens. “What about his girlfriend?”
“They broke up,” I say, my voice low. “Because of me.”
“Because of you?” Barb asks, incredulous. “What happened? Did the brother take one look at you, realize you were the only woman for him, and his girlfriend stormed off after slashing his tires, then hopped on the back of a passing motorcycle?”
I laugh despite myself. “That’s oddly specific, but no. They broke up before they got here. I think she broke up over the sleeping arrangements.”
She narrows her gaze. “Then she must not be much of a girlfriend if a bunk bed was her breaking point.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Although it worked out for the heroine in One Man Above Me, One Man Below.”
It’s a sofa bed, but I let that go and give her a flat stare.
“What?” she asks in mock innocence. “Margo was very happy at the end. A very happy ending.”
“I’m talking about Grant, not the woman sandwiched between two men in your book.”
Barb’s laugh bubbles through the phone. “Two men? Don’t limit that poor girl to just two.”
I drag in a deep breath. “This isn’t a romance novel, Barb. This is real life. And I want to come home.”
Her smile falters, then she suddenly starts stabbing the screen with her finger.
“What are you doing?” I ask, half laughing.
“Sending out the distress signal.”
“What distress signal?”
She ignores me, still poking, then leans back with a triumphant grin.
“Barb…” I warn.
