“Yes. Should I break the news to her?”
“Wait until she’s had a little wine to soften the blow.”
The doorbell rings. We all stare at each other, startled. I’m not expecting anyone, so I’m perplexed. I put my beer down and start out of the kitchen. Morgan follows, muttering, “If it’s Adam the ass nugget coming to steal what little he left behind, I’m going to dick punch him.”
“I’m sure it’s not Adam.”Please may it not be Adam.
I get to the front door and swing it open. There’s a guy in a crisp blue shirt with a company name stitched on the pocket holding a clipboard. I look past him and see another guy opening the back of a big truck. “Ms. Quinlin?”
I nod.
He turns the clipboard toward me. “We’re here with your new mattress set.”
“I didn’t order a new mattress set.” I turn to my brother and Ned, but they look as confused as I am. I haven’t told my parents about the furniture Adam took because it would upset them more than this whole ordeal already has, and even if I did, they don’t have the money to buy me a new one. Especially not from this high-end store.
He points with the tip of the pen to a name under billing information. “Mr. Braddock purchased the set. This is the address he gave for delivery.”
“Sweet snickerdoodle!” I gasp in disbelief and actually take the clipboard out of his hand and reread the name about twenty times.
“This boy deserves more than snickerdoodles, Zoey-Poey,” Morgan tells me sternly over my shoulder. “He’s a goddamn dream.”
“Easy, honey,” Ned tells him.
The delivery guy hands me the pen. I stare at it. Morgan nudges me. “Sign.”
“But—”
“No buts. Sign.”
I sign the delivery order, and the guy asks me where I want it. Ned leads him up to the master bedroom because I’m flustered. All I want to do is find my phone and call Jude. I walk into the kitchen, grab my phone off the counter and dial his number.
“Hey, baby, are you calling to ask me to break in the bed with you?”
I smile instantly. “Jude, you shouldn’t have. I can take care of myself. I need to.”
“I know you can, I promise,” he replies. “You can consider it taking care of me. I had to have the trainer massage my back for half an hour after sleeping on that wonk-ass inflatable mattress you went out and bought.”
“We could just stay at your place, then.”
“I’m not done making good memories for you in that house,” he says matter-of-factly with a teasing lilt in his voice. “We still have to make some in the shower—your shower—and the kitchen and the third floor. I need the bed to rest comfortably between rounds.”
I don’t say anything. I’m too busy enjoying the warm feeling that is swelling up inside me. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“So you’ll keep it?”
“Yes, for your health.”
“Thank you,” he replies.
“Oh, and your place is officially listed. You can check it out on MLS,” I add.
“Great,” he says, and I can hear voices in the background. “Practice is about to start. I should go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t break in that bed without me,” he warns cheekily before he hangs up.
I put the phone down and walk back to the hall, where Ned and Morgan are seeing the deliverymen out. Morgan turns to me. “Seriously. This is exactly what you’ve needed for years.”
