“More than decent,” I say before I can stop myself, and the warmth that blooms is almost embarrassing. I clear my throat. “He, uh… he takes care of people. Notices things most folks miss without being overbearing.” I let out a laugh. “Last week he reorganized my spice drawer alphabetically and then pretended he did it so I could ‘discover a more efficient oregano.’ I guess plain salt and pepper aren’t good enough to cook with. And when I… when I let him see me, he didn’t flinch.”
“Ah,” Jaxon says, like a puzzle piece just clicked into place. “So the deck.”
I stare at him. “The what now?”
“The bigger deck,” he says, sweeping his arm at the boards. “You’re making space for a grill, sure—although I’m pretty sure I know who the grill is for—but also for Sunday morning pancakes on the deck with two mugs. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I sigh. He’s not wrong.
By the time the sun tilts low, we’ve got a decent stretch finished. We sit on the edge, legs swinging, looking at the extra space that didn’t exist this morning. A space that I’m potentially taking a gamble on. If I don’t freak myself out in the process.
“Bigger grill?” Jaxon asks.
“Plus a bigger table,” I say. “For family dinners.”
He laughs. “You, Beckett, and the dog you swear you don’t want yet.”
“I never said I didn’t want a dog.” I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the setting sun as I imagine leash hooks by the back door. “It’s just a lot of responsibility.” And maybe the idea of getting a dogwithsomeone sounds more appealing.
God, I miss conversations like this with my best friend.
“Are they always like this?” I ask Finn, peering into his and Spencer’s living room like it’s a wildlife exhibit sponsored by ABBA.
“Pretty much, yep.” He leans in the doorway beside me, calm, the way a man who has already made peace with chaos and purchased decorative throw pillows would.
Spencer, Alex, and Jules are dancing around, shrieking the “Mamma Mia” chorus like it owes them money. Someone thought a drinking game would be a good idea.
This all happened before I got here. Apparently, they decided on the spandex rule. Anytime someone is wearing spandex, we have to take a shot, which felt harmless at first, until the fourth pair of glitter leggings entered the chat.
I joked I’d be wrecked by the end of the night; turns out past me was a prophet. My sway is attempting to pass as dancing. If I keep nodding to the beat, maybe I’ll look sober.I do not look sober.
“Another spandex sighting!” Alex yells. Everyone cheers. Shots happen.
The shot fairy is ruthless.
“I’m really glad you’re back,” Finn says quietly, watching theothers attempt a three-person cartwheel with a horrified look on his face. “Because if I had to endure this alone, I can’t say I wouldn’t do something drastic like… turn off the internet.”
I give him the “damn!” face.
He lifts a hand. “I know. Excessive. But I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Still cruel.”
He winks at me. “I know.” I bark out a laugh, and he joins in.
“How have you been? Honestly?” He was the only one I told about Pierre… well, and now Dom.
I can’t believe I told Dom how much of an idiot I was. I mean, who wants to date the person gullible enough to treat a red flag like it’s festive décor?
“I’m good,” I say, then grimace. “Medium good… Discounted good.” I finally settle on. “I’m just glad to be home. Los Angeles was never a good fit for me.”
“Me neither,” he chuckles.
Spencer points at Finn and me. “You two, on the floor! Dance or drink!”
“I’m already dancing,” I say, which is generous considering I’m doing more of a controlled teeter.
Finn deadpans, “He’s doing interpretive tightrope walking.”
