Mom, with her super hearing, shouts from the living room, “It’ll be five more minutes.”
“Thanks, Mom,” we chorus like the functional adult children we pretend to be.
“You’re lucky Griffin isn’t here,” Rowan says. “He’d never let this go.”
Piper stiffens. “Why would Griffin care?”
Noah smirks. “Because he’s moving back next month, and this is exactly the kind of thing he missed.”
“Griffin’s moving back?” Piper asks too quickly.
Rowan grins. “What? Worried your teenage diary might resurface?”
I can’t help but smile. Griffin is Noah’s best friend and practically grew up in this house after his parents died. His grandmother did her best, but she was getting on in years and wasn’t in the best of health.
Dad fixed things in their house more times than I can count, and Mom sent dinners down when his grandmother’s arthritis got bad. Somewhere along the way, he just stuck.
He’s the same age as Noah, but he was always steadier than any of the boys who orbited our house growing up. The kind of kid who rebuilt engines in his spare time and then helped Rowan with her mathhomework without making her feel stupid. He left five years ago for a job out of state. He’s only returned a handful of times since.
Piper had a crush on him once. She used to sit on the back steps when he’d come over, pretending she just happened to be outside. He never noticed. Or if he did, he was too kind to say anything.
Which explains how she just asked that question as if she had swallowed it wrong.
I wish we could talk about Griffin more. It would stop them from diving headfirst into my embarrassment. Instead, Noah levels me with a smirk. “Be careful with that rose toy if you’re having noise issues.”
I pause.
He doesn’t.
“They’re incredibly loud.”
Three mouths drop open.
“Noah!”
He holds up his hands. “Again. Not a virgin.”
Rowan pokes him in the side. “Do you have one?”
“No,” he says, far too smoothly. “But I’ve known people who’ve used them.”
Piper makes a face. “You mean your ex. Didn’t she leave you for a yoga instructor?”
“God,” I scoff. “Was his name Sage?”
Noah blinks. “He was a pilates instructor.”
I press my forehead against the cold counter.
Rowan throws an arm around me, her voice full of mock sympathy. “Don’t worry. If you die from embarrassment, we’ll turn the rose into a memorial.”
“Put it on your headstone,” Piper adds. “She came. She saw. She sent it to the wrong address.”
Noah grins. “RIP Madison Rose.”
I’m going to kill them.
And then I’m going to return that damn rose.
