“Don’t act like everyone in this room isn’t looking at you,” I say, dragging my gaze down his exposed abs.
“Don’t even try it,” he says, and I know he means my jacket.
I hold up my hands. “I only do that when you’re a risk to both our safety because I’m about to combust.”
Hawke orders us another round of drinks.
And I don’t mean to, but both Archangel and I get pretty drunk.
We’re walking back to the hotel, draped in each other.
“Is that your phone, or does your dick have an upgrade?” Archangel asks.
“What? Did you upgrade my dick without me noticing?” I laugh.
“You’re vibrating.”
I feel my junk. “No, I’m not.”
He just laughs. “Your phone.”
I pull it out and instantly regret it. “My mom.”
“Why don’t you block her?”
“I don’t know, morbid curiosity or something.” I’m too drunk to make up an excuse. “I used to want her to care. And at first I hoped she’d call and ask me to come home and tell me she kicked him out.”
He stops, forcing me to as well because we’re holding hands. He steps into me, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m sorry.”
“As terrible as she is, you make up for every bad thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Give me your phone.”
I hand it to him.
“I’m blocking her, and if your father steps one toe out of line, I’m blocking him, too.” He hands my phone back.
I shove it in my pocket and wrap up around him. “If anyone acts like shit at your sister’s wedding, I’m blocking them, then.”
“Deal,” Archangel says when we pull back. “I want to make sure we both expect better for ourselves.”
We walk into the hotel and get in the elevator.
“We both need to decide how our new life is going to look.”
“Our new life?”
“I think we have a lot to talk about when we’re sober.” I decide to be brave.
Archangel winces.
“What did I say?”
How did I fuck this up?
“You’re basically saying we need to talk! That’s never good.”
I pick him up in a bridal carry when the elevator opens. “Talk about good things!”
