“Sure, sure,” he says quickly, looking off to the side. “Listen, I better get going. I need to get back to Chicago. Plenty to do, starting with taking back our apartment.”
I move my hand from his and he tucks it into his pocket. “I’ll sign whatever documents are needed to take my name off it.” He nods and stands, and so do I. I want to hug him, but I’m not sure he’d allow it.
“Good luck with everything, Warren. I mean it.” I try for a smile, but it’s half-hearted.
“Thanks, Addison. I hope he… Brady…” He says the name like it’s not something he wants to do. “Makes you happy.”
And then he hugs me. A fleeting, awkward side hug.
I watch him walk away and punch the button for the elevator.
A deep sigh fills my chest, and I close my eyes to release it.
“You’re a piece of work.”
The words are spoken quietly, squeezing through a clenched jaw. And they don’t surprise me at all. I stand so I’m on her level.
“Hi, Shannon.”
“Don’t greet me like we’re old friends,” she seethes. “I told him not to come here, but he insisted on seeing you in person. I told him he was better off forgetting you. And I was right.”
The triumph on her face makes me sick. I step closer, right into her personal space, close enough to make her feel my breath on her cheek. “Get a life, Shannon. Your brother will move on, and you’re going to need something to move on to also.”
I back up and pivot, walking to the elevator Warren used just a few minutes ago. I step onto the next open elevator and take it up to Brady.
* * *
“Are you serious? Tell me more.”I laugh, lifting my beer to my lips.
Under the table, goosebumps form as Brady runs his hand up and down my thigh.
We’ve been sitting at the restaurant for the past two hours with Finn and Lennon, and my cheeks are beginning to hurt from laughing.
“Brady—”
“My turn,” Brady interrupts, shooting a look at Lennon. She sticks her tongue out at him.
He removes his hand from my thigh and uses it to gesture. “Lennon is conveniently forgetting to tell you anything embarrassing about herself.”
Lennon tosses her hands into the air. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”
Finn kisses her cheek. “It’s a good one, babe. You have to admit.”
She turns her face to him to get one more kiss, this time on the mouth. “Fine, yes, it’s a good one,” she says in mock exaggeration.
“So,” Brady turns to look at me while he tells the story. He’s so close I want to pounce on him, but I force myself to listen. “Growing up, Lennon went to church every Sunday. One Sunday, when she was…sixteen?”—he looks to Lennon for confirmation, and she nods— “she went to church with her skirt tucked up into her underwear. And somehow, all those nice men and boys chose not to tell her.”
My eyes widen in horror. “When did you finally realize it?”
“I told her,” Finn says, laughing.
“Wait.” My eyebrows knit in confusion. “I thought you didn’t go to church.” An earlier story provided me with that insight.
“Hardly ever,” Finn explains, “but this one Sunday I had something I wanted to, uh,”—he glances at Brady, a fleeting look of guilt riding over his face— “tell Lennon.”
Brady snorts. “What he means is that he was after a secret make-out session with her.”
Pink rises on Lennon’s cheeks, but there’s pride on Finn’s. “Yeah, I was.” He playfully hammers a fist down onto the wooden table. “And I got it, too,” he winks at me.
