A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "If I don't see you first."
Brooke: I just watched Jackson walk you home. Then he walked back to his house.
Brooke: Why, pray tell, was he doing that?
Brooke: Is it my turn with him? Is that what's happening? We're going to time share his ass? Full-on sister-wife this thing?
Brooke: If that is the case, it's in our best interest to draw up an agreement now. Terms, conditions, operational standards.
Brooke: I'll get started on the documents.
Brooke: Okay. Done. I had something similar sitting on my hard drive and it was easy enough to change the key details.
Brooke: I assume you're fine with alternating weekends because I'm all about hard partying Saturday nights followed by lazy Sunday mornings and it would suck if I couldn't have him for those consecutive days.
Annette: What the hell are you talking about?
Brooke: Sharing Jackson.
Annette: Oh my god.
Brooke: What?!? It makes perfect sense.
Annette: I sent him home. He wants…lots of things.
Brooke: And by that you mean…anal?
Annette: OH MY GOD. Brooke!
Brooke: Am I right or wrong? I'm don't know how to interpret that response. It could go either way, really.
Annette: He wants a relationship. He wants something serious and official and, I don't know, long term.
Brooke: So…not anal?
Annette: It didn't come up, no.
Brooke: But you can't rule it out.
Annette: Again—OH MY GOD.
Brooke: Okay, settle down, Angel Cake.
Brooke: Remind me why you have a problem with relationships? Because I distinctly recall us drinking Moscow mules in Bar Harbor two months ago and planning our weddings.
Annette: It just seems like this thing with Jackson is too good to be true.
Brooke: You're being stupid.
Annette: Thanks, love.
Brooke: Seriously. You're letting this Owen shit weigh you down. Stop it now.
Annette: I am working on it, you know. I'm not trying to be this way.
Brooke: But you're going to see him again, right?
Annette: Yeah.
