“We went to Atlanta last weekend.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “And stayed in a hotel most of the time…doing what, pray
tell?”
“Oh, shut up,” Gage muttered, tired of feeling the need to defend himself. “You
don’t understand.”
“Sure I do.” Dylan slapped him on the back, the glint of his Rolex nearly blinding in
the early morning light. “You have a hard time communicating outside the bedroom. So
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Marie Harte
instead of confessing how you feel, or perhaps telling Hailey how much you admire and
love her, you’re screwing her into a tired, contented state, hoping she won’t get wise and
cut you off at the balls one day.”
“Honestly, Dylan. How you manage a thriving practice with that mouth is beyond
me.” Their mother stood in the kitchen hallway with a large scowl on her face.
Derrick and Gage burst out laughing.
“You two might have warned me,” Dylan mumbled with a red face.
“But I have to admit, you have a point,” Barbara said, shoving one sack at Dylan and
the other at Derrick. “Gage, you can’t solve your relationship problems with sex.”
He cringed, as did Derrick, when she started on the topic. Dylan nodded in
agreement.Stupid therapist.
“You need to tell her how you feel, honey.”
“I did,” he gritted, wishing they’d all stay out of what they didn’t understand. He and
Hailey were happy, and if she was a little quiet lately, she probably had a lot to worry
about at work, what with that possible promotion coming her way.
“You did? What did you say?”
“I told her I loved her.”
His family stared at him like he’d grown a third eye.
“What? You said to be honest. I’m honest.”
“When did you tell her this?” his mother asked quietly.
“Ah, two weeks ago.”
