Maverick
That’s so valid. Pick me up?
Carter
Get your own damn truck, you’re a billionaire.
Maverick
You’re married now. That makes you contractually obligated to love me more.
Carter
It makes me contractually obligated not to kill you. That’s it.
Maverick
You’re so grumpy, it must be all the love in your system.
Carter
We’re leaving in 20. Don’t be naked.
Maverick
No promises.
I toss the phone on the counter and sip the bitter espresso, praying it’ll bring me back to life. Cupcake lets out a bark from the mudroom, her leash jingling against thehook. She wants a walk, and I want to scream into the fucking void.
Carter’s truckscreeches to a stop in front of my house, like he’s trying to piss off my neighbors.
Not that I blame him; they hate him anyway.
Catalina leans halfway out the passenger side window, her bedazzled lavender sunglasses catching the morning sun.
“Get in, loser, we’re getting breakfast,” she sings, holding a half-eaten croissant.
Gotta love her.
I open the door, holding Cupcake, who leaps in before I can sit down, tail wagging like she hasn’t seen them in years.
Traitor.
I settle into the worn leather seats, watching Cupcake wiggle on the center console as Catalina gives her kisses.
Carter glances at me through the rearview mirror. “You look like shit.”
“Good morning to you, too, Daddy Grump.”
Catalina twists around in her seat, smacking my knee playfully. “Are you hungover or just dying slowly from loneliness?”
“Little bit of both,” I mutter, slumping into the seat. “Also, you two reek of sex, and it’s barely seven thirty in the morning, Jesus.”
Carter smirks and reaches over to tug one of Catalina’s hands across his lap.
She giggles and presses a kiss to his jaw.
I gag.
