Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Gabe told me.
“Married, one daughter already, another on the way,” he said. “He’s an ER nurse. Deep dives into his cell, computer use, social media and personnel records share he’s a dedicated family man and a dependable medical professional. The man doesn’t so much as follow some pop singer’s Instagram page for an opportunity to perv. His wife and him are in a pickleball league. He shares drop-off and pickup with her at daycare. And he has only cursory contact with high school buds, many of whom have not kept their noses as clean as Darvill. Then again, they didn’t learn the lesson he learned.”
“Interesting,” I mumbled.
“Considering Darvill did get his hand slapped about shit like this,” Gabe continued, “Brody went deeper. But he didn’t find any secret social media accounts or anything uncool in his deleted caches, because the man doesn’t even delete his caches since he has nothing to hide, and phone and car GPS show nothing but work, home, gym, daycare, family life and social travel. He could be a mastermind at hiding he’s still a dick. But it seems like he’s just no longer a dick.”
“Well, I have to admit, I’m surprised, but I’m also glad he made his way off the path of being a dick,” I replied.
“Yeah.”
“I’m also glad he’s given you no reason to find him and hand his ass to him,” I remarked. “It’ll cut into your cookie tester duties.”
Gabe grinned and repeated, “Yeah.”
I stroked his beard and asked softly, “Feel better about that?”
“More important question, do you?”
“It’s good to know someone who did something so heinous in his youth was able figure it out and not repeat the pattern,” I noted.
“’Spect having a wife, a daughter and another one on the way might have helped him to understand that.”
“’Spect so,” I agreed. “Can we be done with him?”
“Absolutely.”
I rolled up to my toes to give him another kiss.
The timer for the cookies sounded.
Gabe moved to the fridge to grab a beer.
And I went to the oven to grab the cookies.
“He’s just so awesome.”
I turned to see what Shanti was looking at and watched Gabe strolling our way.
She was so right.
He was so awesome.
She and I were on a besties date.
And so we could tie one on, Gabe dropped us off at Trevor’s, and since (as per his instructions) I texted him that we were ready to come home, now he was back.
Unh-hunh.
Totally awesome.
I turned to Shanti where we were sitting at the bar and watched her smile into her glass before she sucked back the last sip.
She seemed okay. Back to Shanti.
Things had even been chill between her and Titus the last time we hit the man cave.
Still there was no hug at the end, but you had to give Shanti that play.
After crashing and burning with a hot guy?
Maybe she’d get that play forever.
But I had the honored role of being her sister of the heart, so I couldn’t fall down on keeping my finger on the pulse of well, where her heart was at (as well as everything else about her, sister duties were steep, but the effort was worth it).
I felt Gabe’s hand on my hip and looked to him.
“Wanna join us for one last drink?” Shanti asked him.
“Had a beer at home,” he replied. “So…thanks, but no.”
At home.
He’d been at my place.
Le sigh.
“Though, I’ll hang if you two aren’t done,” Gabe offered.
God, he was so freaking great.
Thus, le repeat.
Le sigh.
“No, we’re good,” Shanti said as she slid off her stool.
I sucked back the dregs of my drink before I did the same, which earned me an amused mini smile from my man.
Gabe took us home and Shanti and I hugged outside her door.
“You need to stop worrying,” she whispered in my ear. “I’m fine.” She pulled away and smiled at me. “But I’m not giving up besties dates.”
“Never,” I replied.
We hugged again.
Gabe waited patiently.
It was both of us waiting as she let herself in, and only after we heard her coo to her cats, “Hello, my babies,” did Gabe take my hand to guide me to our place (or, one of the two of them, I was seeing why Eric and Jessie, Harlow and Javi were all in on this two-shared-spaces gig—once you’d doubled up on toiletries and split your wardrobe accordingly, it was all kinds of fun for all kinds of reasons to have options).
Gabe let us in.
I flicked off my heels precisely two steps into the apartment.
“Another drink, cupcake, or hit the sack?” Gabe asked.
It was late-ish.
I was tipsy-ish.
What I was not was running on empty.
My life was full. It was busy.
It was no longer overfull or overwhelmingly busy.
And Real Logic hadn’t had to rear her head in weeks.
Winning!
Still, I said, “Hit the sack.”
Gabe moved to me.
I told him. “You don’t have to carry me every time…eyeeeee!”