“It’ll be okay,” Chrissy murmurs a moment later.
And I realize they’realllooking at me.
“I’m fine,” I lie, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a huge bite.
“I know you are.” She squeezes my arm. “But it’ll still be okay.”
“Yup,” Rory chimes in. “The dumbass will either get his head together or you’ll find someone better.”
I smile despite myself.
But right now, I’m not surebetterexists.
Still, they don’t bring Rhodes up again, or why I’m here instead of with him and Chloe. They don’t even ask me what my next plans are. Instead, they fill the rest of the night with stories about kittens and puppies and Joan of Freaking Arc and how Rome and Chrissy met (and how Rome was convinced the Jean-Michel was going to have him quietly disappeared before it all worked out in the end). They share Rory and King’s story and Rory shows me her bracelet full of colorful charms, each signifying a memory. Huddy tells me how it took being trapped in Coach Dee’s office after the quake for her to see him as a man, not a player. And I show them my travel planner, talk about my trip.
The first version.
Not the one I’d made for?—
I shove that thought away.
Then Rory and King and Huddy say goodbye, and I order Rome and Chrissy to go to bed, promising to do the dishes and clean up so I can earn my keep.
“You’re welcome—whether or not you do the dishes,” Rome murmurs, pulling me into a tight hug.
But he doesn’t push further.
Just lets me distract myself with dishes as he takes Mia from Chrissy—and finally gets his turn to hold his baby—and they all go upstairs.
It doesn’t take long to put the kitchen to rights, and now I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed in the guest room, folding and refolding the throw blanket that was splayed fashionably over the bottom.
It’s beyond soft and totally cuddle-able.
But all I can think about is the blanket Chloe and I made with its bright glittery square she picked for herself and the grumpy cat fabric she chose for Rhodes.
And the pretty pale pink piece that was me.
My throat tightens.
There’s a soft knock at the door and then it swings open. “You up?” Chrissy asks softly. She’s holding two mugs in her hands and when she sees me, she winces. “Oof.”
I huff a laugh despite myself.
“I’ll be fine.” A beat. “Promise.
“I know you will be.” She walks in, hands me one of the mugs then sits beside me on the mattress.
I eye the contents of the cup. “Please tell me this has alcohol in it.”
Her lips twitch. “Unfortunately not. Next time, though? Bailey’s for sure.” She nudges my arm. “It’s hot chocolate with extra mini marshmallows.”
“Almost as good,” I say lightly.
She snorts. “Liar. But it does in a pinch.”
“That’s true enough.” I smile into the mug, but it fades fast.
Because even being here, with her and Rome and the others, with their warmth and kindness…I’m still hurting.
