“Evan Rooney, what am I going to do with you?”
“I was kind of hoping you’d get naked.” He slurred again.
“You can keep on hoping,” I said as he belched.
While Evan was nonplused, letting the drunken words fly, we all felt the awkward band of air move into the room like a fog. I wanted to pretend we were alone, but we weren’t, and if he rejected me later, this whole thing would be an embarrassing exercise in futility.
“You’re an idiot.” David smacked Evan in the back of the head, making him wince.
Evan ducked the second shot and waved his hand in the air, almost falling off the couch. “Assault on an officer of the law.”
“Yeah, I’d like to see you try and cuff me, asshole.” David gave a curt nod and winked at me, leaving the house. Hunter and Taylor stood together, holding hands, waiting.
I scrunched my nose, smelling the rank alcohol coming off my roommate. “I guess he’s fine there. I’ll never be able to move him to his bed, though.”
“Probably best for when he starts throwing up.” Hunter motioned for Taylor to grab a bucket from under the sink just in case. Huh, so that was were Evan kept the buckets and stuff. I learned something new every day in this house.
“Thanks for bringing him home.”
“No problem. Call us if he wakes up and gives you any trouble.” Hunter waved at me, moving toward the front door.
“He’ll probably sleep it off.” I wasn’t too worried and I still felt safe with him.
Taylor seemed to be scrambling around between the living room and the kitchen. “Oh, don’t forget to take the chicken out in time. The temperature should read–Hunter!”
Hunter had come back and tossed Taylor over his shoulder muttering, “I’m sure she’s got it. Now, what did I tell you about interfering, my love…” The door slammed shut, and I winced because I really didn’t have it handled and could have used her help getting the chicken out at the right time. Oh well.
I looked over at Evan, who was now slumped over and snoring into the couch cushion. Releasing my pent-up sigh, I muttered, “What am I doing here?”
I got no answer except for a grunt and a grumble and decided to sit next to him on the couch, putting the television on low. I turned on the baby monitor. Ethan was sleeping soundly as was Evan—drunk as a skunk. I had nothing to do except wait for the chicken.
A few minutes later, Taylor texted my phone to let me know when to take the chicken out and how to check the temperature. The chicken tasted great, but I ended up sitting at the table alone to eat it. I made Evan a plate and cleaned up the kitchen. So much for trying to be something I clearly was not going to be.
“So much for shaving my legs and spending some money on a dress that didn’t look like my grandmother’s couches had died to make it,” I mumbled to the empty room before I checked on Evan still snoring in the living room. I fed and changed Ethan before going to bed—alone.
26
Evan
“Morning.” My mouth felt like sandpaper and tasted of old sneakers. I lumbered into the room with bright light streaming through the blinds. This blinding pain was well-deserved like ice picks in my skull.
Remi stood at the kitchen counter, pouring a cup of coffee. When she handed it to me, our hands touched for the briefest moment, and I felt her soft skin feather light against my own. My mind wandered to her touching other parts of my anatomy, which would need more than the morning paper to cover it if I wasn’t careful. She mana
ged to hold Ethan against her chest while gingerly sidestepping me to sit at the kitchen table. The baby grabbed her hair, and she winced as he pulled the red strands, tangling them in his tiny fist.
My sweet girl was avoiding me. I ruined dinner and embarrassed her last night in front of our friends. I was an ass. The biggest kind of ass, and I didn’t think a simple apology would fix this.
“There’s a plate of chicken and stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry later,” she hummed, sipping her coffee. No yelling. No drama. Just straight up disappointment.
I felt like a jerk and way better than I had any right to feel. My head pounded and my stomach somersaulted. Remi had cooked me a nice dinner, and I ruined it by coming home like a drunken idiot. Hell, I hadn’t even driven myself; my friends brought me home and I would need to jog over to the bar later and pick up my car.
“I’m sorry.” Lame as it was there wasn’t much I could say that would excuse my behavior or the parts of it I remembered from last night.
“It’s fine. I can always make cookies.” Her lips touched the ridge of her cup, and I knew she was teasing me. I wasn’t completely in the doghouse, but my mouth did pain me thinking about those deceiving bricks of chocolate chip. And that was why I had trust issues with baked goods.
“Not that I don’t love your cookies, sweet girl, but I’ll pick up doughnuts later.” We smiled at each other, enjoying the other’s company, and it felt like all was forgiven. I wanted to touch her, but I held back. She had that skittish look back in her eyes. and I was just as wary.
I sat down with her, watching her rub Ethan’s back in a soothing set of strokes I was jealous of. Her fiery hair was plaited in a long braid. I smelled a faint odor of milk and baby and marveled how I got to this strange place of contentment with another man’s woman and child. Me, Evan Rooney, the consummate bachelor with a black book of numbers on speed dial whenever I felt the itch. Ironic, that’s what it was. I’d been celibate for some time, completely unplanned and no current plan to change that unless it was with Remi. I shouldn’t have felt this good, but I did and I didn’t care.