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“I don’t know. Should I?”
“Well, don’t you want to make it more your home than Brooklyn’s? Not that she doesn’t have a cute design aesthetic, but you’re the interior designer. Don’t you want to make it yours?”
“Eventually,” I said. “But for now, I think we should eat.”
“Plates?”
I grabbed the dishes from the cabinet and tore off two paper towels. “Beer is in the fridge.”
“Great,” she said. “You want one?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
We ended up sitting on the floor and eating at the coffee table.
“How are you liking your place?” I asked Tavy.
She shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t see myself being there a lot. So for now it’s okay.”
“I’m glad to hear that. You know what’s weird? I feel more at home here in this tiny place than I ever did at Knox’s massive house.”
“Key word—Knox. That was never your house. You never changed anything about his space.”
“He wouldn’t let me,” I protested.
She paused. “Seriously?”
I sighed and set my pizza aside. “I asked him a few times if we could change the color palate. Get a new couch. A new bed set. He brushed it off. He didn’t want to change anything about it. So, yeah, it was definitely his house.”
“Oh,” she said quietly.
“Am I a total idiot?” I blurted out. “I mean, shit, Tavy…who stays with a man who won’t even entertain the idea of changing the living space to make it their home instead of his home?”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she said softly. “But I don’t know why you stayed with him as long as you did.”
“I think I wanted to prove everyone wrong.” I shook my head. “Stupid. It shouldn’t matter what anyone thinks about the man I choose to marry. I should’ve been making that decision because I loved him and he was the right one. Not because I had something to prove.”
“Want another beer? I mean, if we’re unpacking the Knox stuff, I feel like it’s a multi-beer conversation.”
I shook my head. “No thanks, I’m good.”
“I think I know what you need,” Tavy said.
“Shots?” I teased.
She grinned. “No. A new guy.”
“I don’t need a new guy.”
“Not to keep,” she said. “But like a revenge fuck. Clean out all the pipes. Help you get your ego back.”
“Not my style,” I averred, even though I’d done just that only a few days ago.
“You don’t have a style,” she protested. “Jeez, Logan. There weren’t many men before Knox, you know? Live a little. Now’s the time to try new things. Like new dick.”
“I’m not ready to date.”
“Who said anything about dating?” Tavy asked. “I said new dick. Take a ride on the dick-mobile, have a bunch of orgasms. No commitment.”
