He shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
“Come look at this!” Emma’s voice rang out, bright and excited, from the next aisle.
I rounded the corner—and froze.
She was grinning, radiant, standing in front of a monstrosity of furniture: a half-desk, half-cabinet thing with peeling paint and mismatched drawers, like someone had fused three lifetimes together and hoped no one would notice.
It was hideous.
She looked at it like it was art.
“What do you think?” she asked, hope lighting every syllable.
I opened my mouth, but Garrett beat me to the punch.
“What the fuck is that?” he barked behind me, laughing loud enough to rattle the lamp beside him.
Emma’s face fell. The light vanished.
My heart dropped with it.
Candace smacked Garrett’s arm. “Stop it.”
He only grinned, unbothered. “What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”
“I think it’s interesting,” I said evenly, my attention fixed on Emma. Her lip twitched—the faintest attempt at a smile—but the spark was gone.
“Stop being a dick,” Candace hissed.
“Jesus, Candace,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re always busting my balls. Even you have to admit this thing is hideous.” He looked at her then, gesturing toward the warped wood.
“Garrett.” Her tone dropped, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
He played confused. “Seriously? I called the thing hideous, not her.”
But the smirk that followed told a different story. His eyes traveled down Emma’s body, lazy and cruel.
My stomach twisted. Emma’s chin dipped, her shoulders curling inward, as if she could hide the shape he’d just turned into spectacle.
“Besides, Emma knows I’m joking,” he added with a wink.
“I certainly hope so,” I murmured, each word precise as a blade, my eyes locked on his.
Something in his expression sharpened—mockery turning to challenge. “You got a problem, man?” he asked, voice low, testing.
I didn’t move. “Not yet.”
The faintest twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think so.”
Candace’s laugh came too quick, too thin. “Okay, boys,” she said, stepping between us, a hand pressed to Garrett’s chest. “Let’s not turn this into a pissing contest.”
“It isn’t a pissing contest, Candace,” Garrett snapped. “Everyone’s ganging up on me because I said a piece of furniture was ugly.”
Candace shot him a warning look.
“It was bad enough when it was just you two,” he went on, gesturing between her and Emma, “but now I’ve got Mr.Hot Shot over here turning on me, too?” He laughed, but it landed flat.
He didn’t know how right he was.
