Sneak Attack (Tapped Out 2)

My shocked gaze connected with Mia’s. Did that mean she was staying?

“It’s no trouble,” Mia replied quickly, shrugging at my raised eyebrow.

At least one of us had manners.

“Trayherne? Do you agree?”

I bristled at my mother’s usage of my full name. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Ignore him,” Mia said, taking the tea to set it on the coffee table beside my hip. “Let me show you to the bedroom so you can get settled. I’m sorry, I can only empty out one drawer for you.”

I could only imagine which lucky drawer that would be. It was probably mine.

“Oh, I can find my own way there—” Catching my narrow-eyed expression, my mother quickly changed her tune. “On the other hand, maybe I should do it now. Thank you, Mia.”

“It’s no trouble,” Mia said again, casting a disapproving glance at me over her shoulder as she hustled my mother down the hall.

I locked my fingers behind my neck and tipped back my head. This was good news. She’d refused to stay the other day, but she was back now. She was here.

And if she’d only stayed the other day when I asked, Friday night at the club never would’ve happened. Mia decking Lorenzo never would’ve occurred. I wouldn’t have to watch the woman I loved walk into a ring, knowing once that door was opened again, it would never be fully closed. Knowing it down to the marrow of my bones.

So, no, I wasn’t ready to whip out the ticker tape parade. We were going to have to deal with my father tomorrow, and that was just the beginning of a difficult week. I couldn’t say with any certainty whether my mother would be around at the end of it.

The buzzer rang and I groaned. Jesus Christ, we couldn’t catch a break.

I went to the intercom. “There’s no more room at the inn. Keep walking.”

“Nice, bro.” Slater’s laughter made me do a doubletake. “Let me up?”

“Why are you here? We’re supposed to be on the way to your place.”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t, are you? Open the farking door.”

That was my best friend, the non-swearer. How we’d ever found an inch of common ground in between his motivational tapes and granola smoothies, I’d never understand.

I hit the release and held open the door, waiting for him to bound up the stairs three at a time as was his usual way. He never walked when he could run.

“You lost, son?” I said when he emerged at the top of the stairs, a large wrinkled brown sack in his hand. “If you think you’re moving in, think again.”

“You wish. Your grumpy ass couldn’t handle my sunny personality twenty-four/seven.” He thumped my gut and stopped in the doorway to the apartment. “Damn, something smells good. Carly’s been baking again, hasn’t she? I love that girl.”

“She’d be better for you that the assortment of chicks you insist on shacking up with.” As soon as I’d said it, I wanted to sew my mouth closed. My best friend and Mia’s sister together…no.

Though it was way better than some other potential pairings. Like, say, Carly and the mafia dude in training, or whatever the hell he was.

“Not shacked up now,” he said easily. “And hello, you can talk. Mr. Living In Sin.”

“A lot of sin,” I said, walking into the apartment and shutting the door behind us. “So where is the new chick? And again, why are you here?”

“She’s got a stomach thing. And Liam and Abs bailed to paint her new apartment, so I figured I’d come to you guys instead of the other way around. I knew you’d be running late, because hello, I know these things.”

“I was not running late. Mia was late.”

“Was not,” she called from down the hall. “Hey Slater. Be right out. Have a cookie.”

“Oh sure. He can have a cookie,” I mumbled, sprawling on the sofa.

Slater brought back two cookies and sat down beside me, biting in. “Oh God. That girl. Can I marry her?”