"Good food. Good beer. Hot women." He smirks, wiggling his brows.
"Most were taken or off-limits." I grunt, taking a sip of my beer.
"Speaking of hot women," he continues. "The sister is fucking gorgeous." My hand tightens on the beer. "She seems cool, too. Quiet compared to Lettie. But anyone is compared to her." He laughs. "She seems a bit like you, doesn't like social gatherings."
"Or she was just jet-lagged," I add.
Sully nods. "True. I forgot about that."
And you shouldn't talk about the St. Pierre sisters like that."
"I'm just saying she's hot to my best friend. Not to her fricken brothers. You can't tell me you didn't notice."
"I noticed." I take a large sip of beer.
"Right? Those eyes. And that body. She's ..."
"Sully," I warn him.
"What?"
"Stop talking about her," I warn him again.
Sully stares at me silently for a couple of moments. "You're being weird."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Different weird, though."
"This is me being me," I argue.
His eyes narrow on me as he sips his beer. "No. That's not it."
I drain my beer, get up, and grab another.
"Emmett?" he calls out after me.
"Drop it, Sully."
"Not happening. I've known you all my life. Something's going on with you. Your grumpiness has more edginess to it tonight. And it started right after your conversation with Jo. What happened?"
I lean against the counter and stare at my beer. Should I tell him? He's my best friend, has been since we were kids. If I can't tell him, who can I tell? Maybe if I tell him, he can help me.
"I fucked up," I say finally, walking back into my living room, sliding back onto my space on the couch.
"You fucked up. Like, how bad are we talking?"
"Bad."
Sully leans forward. "Like ... illegal bad? Or just stupid bad? I mean, either way, you know I'll help you."
I appreciate the sentiment. "Stupid bad."
His eyes widen. "You never do anything stupid. Okay. Tell me."
I take a breath. "You remember when I went to London?"
"Yeah, catching up with your cousin."
