The sound of the doorbell cuts him off, giving me a chance to escape.
“I’ll be out by dinner time tomorrow.” I push off the island and look him in the eye as the bell chimes again. “Wouldn’t want to keep your guests waiting.”
I stalk up the stairs to my bedroom, knowing I’m not in the right frame of mind to mingle and celebrate the happy couple’s engagement.
Instead, I decide to get started on packing. The only upside of my current living arrangement is all of my shit is confined to my bedroom and en suite bathroom. The furniture and everything else belong to Ben.
Then again, maybe that’s not such an upside, because now on top of finding somewhere to live, I’ll have to furnish it. Fucking lovely.
I’m emptying my fourth and final drawer into my duffel bag when someone knocks on my bedroom door. “What?”
“Grumpy, grumpy,” my sister murmurs as she steps into my space. “Whoa! What’s going on?”
I slide the drawer back onto the track. “Packing.”
“Why?” Stella’s nose crinkles as she looks between me and the hulking blond man behind her—also known as Samson, my lifelong best friend and her boyfriend.
“Because.” I toss my bag onto my bed and tug the zipper closed. “Ben and Macy want me to move out.”
“Um…” Stella moves around me and perches herself on the foot of my bed. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“What the fuck?” Samson barks. “That’s…”
“Fucked up?”
“Yeah, that.”
“What are you going to do?” Stella asks, worrying the ends of her long hair between her fingers.
“Move out,” I say with a deadpan expression.
The worried look on her face hits me like a punch to the gut. It’s my job to worry about her, not the other way around. “Where to?”
“Hell, if I know, Smalls.” I shrug.
I stand from the bed and start pulling things out of my closet, discreetly watching the weird looks Samson and my sister keep exchanging in the mirror hanging on the back of the door.
I swear, if the two of them weren’t so fucking perfect for one another, I’d be repulsed by how in sync they are.
Samson shakes his head at whatever Stella is silently saying with her wide eyes and pinched lips. He winces. She nods. And then my best friend nods as well—albeit reluctantly.
“You could crash with me for a few days,” Samson murmurs. I catch his gaze in the mirror, and can see he means what he says. I’m half-tempted to take him up on the offer, but I know Stella sleeps over more often than not, and the thought of hearing them fuck is almost enough to make me want to shove nails into my ears.
“Nah, man. I don’t want to impose.”
Stella widens her eyes again, shooting daggers his way.
“Chill, Smalls,” I say, turning to face them. “I don’t want to be y’all’s third wheel. I’ll just crash with Mom and Dad until I find my own place.”
“Are you sure?” Stella asks.
I suck in a deep breath and then slowly blow it out. I swore when I moved out that I’d never move back. I love my parents, but they are grade-A meddlers. But I’ll take my mom’s interference over hearing my sister’s sex sounds any damn day.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
They exchange knowing looks once more, and then Stella stands, crossing the room toward Samson. “Okay, then. Do you want to go down and join the party?”
I snort. “Uh, no.” There’s only one place I want to be right now, and it’s not downstairs celebrating the happy couple.
No. I need to see my little Bluebird.
“Okay.” Stella draws out the word as she opens the door and steps out into the hall.
Party noises trickle up the stairs; from the sound of it, they’re toasting Ben and Macy.
Samson shoots me a knowing look. “You heading out to—”
“Yeah,” I cut him off before he can say the name of the club and spark a conversation with my sister that definitely does not need to be had. He knows me well enough to know I’m obsessed with a certain dancer there.
“All right, man. Be safe.”
I nod and follow them down the stairs, already anticipating the sweet relief that only my Bluebird can bring.
CHAPTER THREE
FRANKIE
“Going home to that boy of yours?”
“You know it, Walter.” Even though Maverick’s been asleep for hours, all I can think about is snuggling up to my little man until the sun rises. He’s at that fun age where he still wants his mama but is also fiercely independent.
“Let me call someone to walk you to your car.”
My lips tip up into a small smile at Walter’s protective nature. It doesn’t matter if it’s broad daylight and you’re parked at the door, he never lets his girls walk out alone.
I nod as I stifle a yawn. Even with my hottie stopping by, tonight seemed to drag, almost like it was slow-mo.