Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Another good point.
“If I’m gone two whole weeks, Raye will have that stupid Tiffany’s collar on Jacques and he might get used to it, so I might have to put up with it,” I said.
He smiled instead of rubbing it in he won (or maybe his smile was rubbing it in, but since I liked it, I didn’t care) before he bent in to touch his lips to mine.
When he pulled away, he asked, “Can we start planning our vacation now?”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
“Caribbean?” he asked.
I’d love to go to the Caribbean.
I shrugged. “Sure.”
He smiled again. “All-inclusive?”
Okay, now he was rubbing it in.
“Knox—”
“Just to say, I have no interest in cooking, cleaning up a kitchen or making my bed when I’m on vacation. That doesn’t say vacation. So…all-inclusive.”
“We agree vacation philosophies so…fine.”
“Only you could pretend somewhat convincingly you aren’t excited to go to an island all-inclusive.”
“I’m only pretending because you’re rubbing in your win.”
“Oh yeah, I’m doing that,” he murmured, deep voice vibrating with humor. “But are you gonna keep it up while we look at packages?”
“Only for part of the time. Then I’ll get excited.”
To that, I got a grin and an order. “Grab your laptop, babe.”
I grabbed my laptop.
We decided on Turks and Caicos.
And I pretended to be annoyed only part of the time.
Then I got excited.
That big king bed and a room with a view of tranquil blue waters?
Oh yeah.
Very excited.
The next day was Super Bowl Sunday and Knox and I were at a big party at Mace and Stella’s.
Everyone was there. Stella had laid out a massive nacho station in her dining room. But there were chips, dips, and bowls of M&Ms and cashews all around.
I was scrunched in a chair with Knox, not watching the game.
Watching other things.
“This is—” I began.
“Don’t,” he warned, eyes to the TV.
“But it’s—”
“Babe, leave it.”
I crossed my arms on my chest and stewed.
I felt Knox’s attention shift from the game to me, so I looked at him.
“Didn’t you learn from us that it’s gotta go how it’s gotta go?” he asked.
I did not concede this point.
Because Roam and Alice were avoiding each other like the plague, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Moses’s eyes followed both of them. Shirleen’s did too.
Oh, and Cap’s did too.
And Gemma kept casting longing glances at Brady, who was pretending she was just a bud, thus staking her in the heart with every bullshit friend move he made.
But Liam and Shanti had this act down pat. They were both acting like they were besties. Joking. Ribbing. Giving each other shit.
And they weren’t fooling anyone, not even themselves.
Last, now that I’d seen Lan’s reaction, I was watching him watch Joey.
Joey was clueless, but not because she was clueless. Because Lan was doing such a good job hiding he was watching her. It was only that I’d caught his frown at the wedding committee meeting that I could see it.
I leaned into Knox’s ear and told him, “You need to have chats with them.”
“Not gonna happen.”
I pulled away and demanded, “Why not?”
“Luna, you wanted to keep us a secret so everyone would stay out of our shit.”
“Yeah, but we were sleeping together then, not dancing around each other like idiots.”
“Then we danced around each other like idiots for thirteen months.”
It totally sucked when his point bested mine.
I started stewing again.
“It’ll be what it’ll be,” he said gently.
“Whatever,” I replied.
“Do you think, even for a second, that either of us, or Raye and Cap, Jessie and Eric, Mace, Tex, fuck, any of us would let them be unhappy for the long haul?”
And it totally sucked when he said something and that meant I couldn’t settle in my stew.
I blew out a breath and gave in. “Okay. I’ll let it happen how it happens.”
He gave me a squeeze. “Good call.”
My eyes fell on Shaw.
“So Shaw’s the only one who’s free and breezy,” I remarked.
I got another squeeze and looked back at Knox.
“Leave it,” he ordered again.
“What?” I asked.
“No matchmaking either.”
I thought about it and said, “I don’t have anyone to match him with.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered, and went back to the game.
I mentally perused my friend posse, most of which was in that room, but there were some outliers.
And no.
No one was good enough for Shaw (that was one reason why they were outliers).
I guessed we’d have to wait and see on that one.
“Share another plate of nachos?” I asked my guy.
“Perfect,” he muttered to the game.
I unwedged myself and went to the dining room table to scoop up a shit-ton of nachos on a plate.
I grabbed a bowl of cashews so they’d be close on the way back.
I rewedged myself with my man.
In the end, Knox was happy because his team won.
And I was happy because the halftime show rocked.
“Turn on the audio.”
“I’m not turning on the audio.”