It’s probably the universe reminding me I need to get my act together, especially since it’s barely seven in the morning.
Too bad.
I don’t give a single shit what the universe says right now.
After cleaning up the broken glass, I take my newly poured drink and stand at our oversized windows for the next hour, taking in the quiet Sunday morning. Wishing that stillness were here with us.
Someone keys in the code on the front door, and in steps Mase.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Good to see you too.” He tosses his overnight bag aside.
“It’s not you. Fucking Leo. I called him before I called you to get home?—”
Suddenly, Leo bursts through the door, toppling into Mase, and under any other circumstance, I’d be laughing at the sight of him.
His hair is wild, his shirt is buttoned incorrectly, only part of it is tucked in, and he pulled up his pants inside out.
Talk about the paparazzi.
For fuck’s sake. If anyone was following him, the stories they’d spin from his looks alone wouldn’t sit well with our clients, or more importantly, Mom.
“Where have you been?” I snap. “Are you that fucking dense you couldn’t tell I needed you home immediately?”
“I—”
“I swear to God, if you stayed for morning sex…”
“Can you shut up? The girl lived in Brooklyn. There was an accident on the bridge, we got stuck in the middle, and then my phone died.”
“You went to Brooklyn to get laid? Times must be tough,” Mase mumbles.
Leo chuckles and slaps him on the back. “God, it’s good to see you. But I’m guessing this reunion isn’t for fun. What’s going on?”
I rub my temples, already done with repeating the same story, but I know he’s going to want every detail.
I tell him everything.
Mase fills in the details as I go.
“Fucking hell.” His voice echoes through the space.
“Shut up,” Mase snaps. “You’re going to wake up Maddie.”
“Too late.”
All three of our heads whip toward the staircase.
Maddie’s standing bleary-eyed, in her gray linen slippers and a matching robe, looking far too fragile and pale for my liking.
“Mads. Come here, please.” I widen my arms, needing to hold her as close as possible.
“I heard everything.” She doesn’t move closer, her voice low, scared.
My chest tightens.
I gesture again, more urgent this time. “I don’t care if you’re sick. I need you in my arms.”
