I chuckle at Dean’s words as I flip the page, smiling when I see a picture of me and the girls at the zoo.
“He got married six months after he left for the last time, and they have four kids together. He wanted to be a family man. He just didn’t want to be one with me.”
“He’s a stupid motherfucker,” Dean grunts from over my shoulder without missing a beat, making me laugh again. “Any man would be a fucking fool to walk away from you.”
My heart starts beating faster, wondering if he’s still talking about Alex—or himself. The words he said to Palmer earlier, about telling me something later, make panic flutter in my chest. I’m not ready for him to tell me he’s leaving. I already know it’s happening, and I don’t need to hear the words.
“Show me more pictures.”
I smile to myself at Dean’s order, some of the panic falling away that he wants to see more of the girls’ and my lives. Leaning away from him, I close the photo album on my lap and set it on the carpet, exchanging it for another one. Scooting back against him again, I bring my knees up and open the album against my thighs as Dean wraps his arms around my waist again and hugs me to him. He brushes my hair off my shoulder and rests his chin back on it as I point to the first picture of ten-year-old Wren, standing behind the counter inside the Dip and Twist, happily helping me work.
“That was the day she told me she was going to run the Dip and Twist someday.”
Curled up in Dean’s arms on my living room floor, with his back resting against my couch, and my back resting against him, I flip through this photo album, along with five more, and I tell him everything else about the life of Laura Bennett.
Aside from the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with my fling.
Chapter 20
Dean
“Your mom.”
“I will stab you with this fork if you touch that last piece of bacon.”
“Has anyone seen my tie? I think I left it at the house.”
“What’s a seven-letter word for easy?”
“Your mom.”
“Ow! You motherfucker!”
“I told you I would stab you if you touched the bacon. Laura! Quinn ate the last piece of bacon! I can kill him for that, right?”
Sitting up with a groan when the noise won’t stop, I swing my legs off the couch, my feet getting tangled in a blanket on their way down to the floor. It takes me a second for the sleep to clear from my brain and to remember where I am and why.
At some point last night, Laura and I moved up here, because my entire body started to ache from sitting on the floor. I remember Laura sitting sideways next to me on the couch with her legs draped over my lap and our heads resting on the back cushions, trading stories about our lives until late into the night. I hate talking about myself and avoid it at all costs. But something made me want to share everything with her, the good, the bad, and the shitty. Let her comfort me through the ugly parts, and smile with me through the handful of good ones. Most people listen half-assed when you’re talking to them, which is why I just don’t bother. They look away, they dick around on their phones, or they’re busy planning what they’ll say next. Laura focuses all her attention on you. Eyes never wavering, mind never straying. It’s a heady feeling having someone hanging on your every word, actually interested in what you’re saying. I felt like I could sit and talk to her forever on this couch and never get bored.
Which makes me feel like an asshole that I didn’t talk to her about the elephant in the room. The one thing I needed to talk to her about the most, especially after my talk with Palmer earlier in the night. But I just couldn’t do it. She already had enough on her mind after going through those photo albums, and I didn’t want to add to it.
I don’t remember who fell asleep first, but I know damn well we fell asleep together.
And now I’m waking up alone.
I want to be irritated that Laura didn’t wake up next to me, but all I can do is smile as the chaos continues in the kitchen. With the scraping of silverware against plates, the smell of bacon and coffee in the air, and all the arguing, it sounds like I just woke up in the middle of the breakfast rush at The Barge. It’s the complete opposite of every morning I’ve ever woken up, and that just makes me smile even bigger. The fact that I slept through most of the noise of breakfast being made and guests showing up reminds me I’ve also never slept so soundly in my life.
“If I lost my tie, Birdie is going to kill me.”
“I’m bleeding, you dick fuck! I cannot believe you actually stabbed me! You’re lucky this isn’t my throwing hand.”
Pushing up from the couch with another groan as my back reminds me couch-sleeping isn’t as comfortable as it used to be, I make my way across the living room and over to the kitchen doorway, pausing to take in the scene.
The kitchen counter is filled with mixing bowls, utensils, empty egg cartons, and a box of pancake mix, and the sink is filled with dirty pots and pans. Bodhi, Shepherd, and Quinn sit around the kitchen table arguing, while Palmer stands behind Bodhi’s chair, all wearing the matching shirts Shepherd made for the day of the wedding. Palmer’s is white and says Groom in black glittery letters across the front. Everyone else is wearing black T-shirts with white glittery writing. Bodhi’s says Best Dude, while Shepherd and Quinn’s say Groomsman. And on the back of all of them, they say Palmer’s Foursome. It’s supposed to be a cute nod to Palmer being a golfer, but it just looks like they’re all going to a dude orgy, and I’ve been laughing about them ever since Shepherd showed them to me the other day.
“Calm down. I have your tie. Try the word lenient. And for God’s sake, Bodhi, I will make more bacon. Here you go, Quinn.”
Laura rushes into the kitchen from the laundry room, handing Palmer his tie, helping Shepherd with his crossword, giving Quinn a band-aid, and then grabbing a tray of bacon sitting on top of the stove. She’s got her long blonde hair pulled up into curlers on top of her head, wearing a flannel with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a pair of cotton shorts. And she takes my fucking breath away.