“What do you want to do today?” she asks.
“I think I want to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist,” I say.
“Oh, love the sound of that. I have a list of terrible rom-coms saved and a box of popcorn. We can rot together.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Once we’ve finished eating, I gather our plates and move to the sink. She stays on her stool, finishing the last of her coffee.
“I like watching you do domestic things,” she says. “It’s weirdly sexy.”
“Yeah? Rinsing dishes does it for you?”
I scrub our plates and set them in the dishwasher when there’s a pound on the door. It’s not a knock.
Addison freezes, setting her mug down.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask.
“Nope.”
The pounding comes again.
“Addison! Open the fucking door. Right now!”
She sighs. “It’s Patterson.”
I haven’t seen him since before any of this started. The last time we hung out was when I visited Dyson a few months ago. I gave him relationship advice, which apparently worked, considering he’s dating Kendall Hart now. I should’ve told him how I felt the moment I found out Addison was his little sister, but I knew he wouldn’t accept it. We’ve been friends for a decade. He’s one of the few people who’s ever treated me like a person instead of a title, and I went behind his back.
“Should I hide?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
“Would you?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” I say with a smirk.
“Didn’t think so.” She slides off the stool and crosses to the door with a huff.
I stay where I am, leaning against the counter in my boxers. Part of me knows I should put on pants because this will probably set him off. The rest of me decides Patterson deserves to see exactly what he interrupted.
She unlocks the deadbolt and cracks open the door. “Patterson—” Addison starts.
He pushes past her without a word. Crosses the loft. He looks pissed when his eyes find me over Addison’s shoulder.
It’s not anger on his face; it’s betrayal.
His fist is already cocked back, and he swings when he gets close. Iduck left, and his knuckles graze my ear instead of connecting with my jaw. Before he can reset, I step into him, hook my arm around his neck, and put him into a headlock. He’s strong, but I’ve got leverage and position—something that’s been drilled into me since I was a kid. Being the next in line for the crown does make me a target.
“Fuck.” He struggles, trying to break free. “Let me go?—”
“Are you done?”
He throws an elbow. It catches my ribs, and I grunt, but don’t release.
“Are you done?” I ask again as we struggle with each other more.
“Stop, please,” Addison says.
“I’m not letting him go until he calms the fuck down,” I say, wrestling with him.
