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He frowned. “Wait. Are you mad at her because you thought she didn’t visit me?”
“Of course, I was mad about that. I’m also mad that she won’t call me back or talk to me, and she and I will have fighting words when we’re finally face to face. But the idea that she didn’t even see you? Made me livid. She really came to visit?”
“She really did. She didn’t stay long.” He arched a brow. “Apparently she didn’t want to run into you.”
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.
“I agree.”
“Do something,” I commanded.
“Do something? Like what?”
“I don’t know. Ground her. Tell her she can’t go to the concert unless she talks to me.”
“I think I’m about a decade too late for that kind of fatherly punishment.”
I sighed and got out of bed. “I need a cookie. And pudding. Did you tell her what happened?”
“I told her about what I walked in on with Knox because that involved me. She knows how that part went down.”
“Not the…not the miscarriage?”
“No. That’s for you to share. If you want to.”
I wanted to. Not talking to Tavy was slowly killing me. Ever since we’d bonded in college, we hadn’t gone this long without speaking.
The idea of never talking to her again had me crying over my plate of cookies and pudding.
“Ah, cupcake.” Smoke patted the bed and I settled down beside him, setting my plate on the nightstand.
“I need my best friend,” I blubbered. “Even if she is being a little shit.”
I cuddled into his side and he wrapped an arm around me.
There was a knock on the hotel room door.
“Who now?” I demanded. “Can I cry in peace?”
“Apparently not.”
With a groan, I got up and went to answer the door.
Tavy stood at the threshold with a vase of white mums, looking nervous.
“You’re a butt munch,” I snapped at her.
She blinked. “And you’re a backstabbing father fucker.”
We stared at one another for a moment and then both of us suddenly burst into laughter.
“Oh, God, Logan, I’m so sorry I—”
“No, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell—”
“But you couldn’t right away. I understand why you—”
“It was killing me lying to—”
