No such luck.
The moment Jay swings the door open, Hudson’s voice barrels down the hall. “Rise and shine! We brought croissants.”
“Shit,” I hiss, scrambling out of bed and yanking yesterday’s sweatshirt over my head. I drag a hand through my hair, hoping it hides the fact that I definitely look like a girl who was just writhing around in someone else’s sheets, and dash into the hallway. “Heyyy, guys.”Way to play it cool, Liv.
Hudson’s already pushing past Jay with a paper bag in hand. Daphne follows, and for a second, I think I’m safe—until her gaze sweeps over me.
She stops mid-step, eyes narrowing.
“Morning…” she says slowly, like she’s testing me. Her gaze flicks to my hair, then my sweatshirt hanging crooked off one shoulder, then to Jay, still very much shirtless. Her brows rise higher with each pass, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s trying not to grin.
I freeze, tugging my sleeve up. “What?”
“Nothing,” Daphne says, too innocently. She takes another look at Jay, then back at me. “Except… wow. You both look”—she gestures vaguely at the two of us—“disheveled.”
“Disheveled?” I echo, heat crawling up my neck. “Hey, where’s my Rosie girl? Don’t you have a kid?” I hope that changes the subject, but my bestie is immune.
“She’s with Finn and Foxx at the park.” She plants her hands on her hips, drawing it out like she’s savoring every second. “You don’t look like two people who just rolled out of separate beds.”
“What are you smoking, Mama?” I squeak but can’t meet her eyes. If she looks into them, she’ll know I’m lying.
Daphne gasps because I accidentally glance up at her. “Oh my god, youdid. You slept together!”
Jay groans from the doorway, dragging a hand down his face. “We did not.”
Hudson, bless his unhelpful soul, glances between us, chewing on a croissant. “You definitely did.”
“We didn’t!” I blurt, my voice pitching higher than normal, which is basically as good as a confession.
Daphne claps her hands together, bouncing on her toes. “This is the best day of my life.” She points at Jay. “Look at you—rumpled hair, shirtless, and flushed. And you”—her finger swivels to me—“avoiding eye contact, and you look fucked.”
Hudson leans on the counter, grinning. “Yeah, you guys are terrible liars.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Can we not do this before coffee?”
“Hudson, our best friends are going to get married!” Daphne shouts.
There’s a chorus of ‘what the fuck’ and ‘married?!’ between Jay and me, and I know I need to calm her down before she has me picking out flower arrangements.
“Oh my god, you’re going to be Olivia Oliviera!”
My nose scrunches. Well, that’s just tragic. I’ll be keeping my name. Wait, I’m not even marrying the man, what the hell am I saying?
Taking my best friend’s hand, I tuck it to my chest, gently soothing her when I say... “Daphne, honey, we’re not getting married; we didn’t sleep together. I’m sorry to burst whatever high you’re riding, but I have not even seen Jay’s dick.” Which is a travesty because I would have if they hadn’t come in.
Hudson chokes on his croissant. Jay nearly does, too, except he isn’t eating—he just makes this strangled sound that could be a cough or could be him dying of mortification.
“Liv!” he scolds, his voice breaking on my name.
“What?” I throw up my hands, letting Daphne go. “It’s the truth.”
Daphne, meanwhile, is practically vibrating. “Oh my god, youwantto, though.”
“I did not say that,” I snap, which is basically the same as saying it. “You have got to stop with this best friend telepathy thing and let a girl live.”
Hudson smirks, licking flakes of pastry off his thumb. “Congratulations, man. Didn’t even have to try, and your dick’s already a topic at breakfast.”
Jay groans, dragging both hands down his face. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”
