His face dims, and he gets into his car. I do the same, driving away with a strange mixture of feelings in my chest.
The truth is I didn’t know what I was doing on Thursday, and I don’t know what I’m doing now. Maybe I never knew what I was doing, and I only liked to believe I was in control of my life.
I takea wrong turn to throw our parents off the scent, so Cormac’s already at his house by the time I parkopposite it.
He meets me at his front door, and I smile at the sight of hisHalf-Life 2T-shirt. The shirt he let me borrow is still at my apartment. I’ll admit I haven’t been in a hurry to give it back.
“I’m surprised you’re not still wearing your apple sweater.”
“No, you’re not.”
Cookie rushes out, barking, and kneads my legs with her front paws in her signature greeting. I pet her head, which she allows.
She sniffs hopefully at my pocket, but I shake my head. “I have no artillery, soldier.”
Cormac smiles as he watches us, his gray eyes warm, and I feel those unwanted, stubborn-ass butterflies again.
Clearing my throat, I stand up straight. “Let’s get to work.”
“You don’t want to talk about the crystal phallus sitting in our parents’ living room?”
I laugh. “Is there a gentle way I can break it to my mom?”
“You’re not known for your gentleness.”
I shove his arm. “I can be gentle.”
He taps his fingers against the hand I have pressed to his arm. “I wouldn’t want you to be.”
The breath basically whooshes out of my lungs. I don’t say anything. I can’t.
He leads me into the house, Cookie padding along behind us. “Let me go get my laptop.”
I sit on the couch, and Cookie jumps up beside me, then climbs into my lap and just stands there, her wide feet digging into me. It’s cute, though, and I pat her back and rub her ears. She leans into my hand in a way that makes me smile.
When I look up, Cormac is leaning against the hallway entrance, watching us with a dreamy look on his face. “She likes you a lot.”
“We’re trauma bonded by the raccoon.”
He crosses the distance between us. When he sits besideme, a few inches away, Cookie leaps down from her lap perch and steps over him as if he’s furniture before curling up on his other side, her chin on his knee. Once she’s situated, he opens the laptop.
I glance at the screen over his shoulder, wanting to inch closer but knowing I shouldn’t. Not after the boundary I’ve set between us.
What I see makes me gasp.
He has a social media profile open on the screen for a guy named Bradley Ruche.
“You already found her exes.”
He grins at me as he adjusts his glasses. “It took me five minutes. I just didn’t want you stalking them on your own. I don’t think you realize how intimidating you can be. The other guy—Dean Whitaker—isn’t on social media, but I found his email address, so we can at least reach out to him. Bradley’s very proud of his gym videos, as you can see. I suspect he wouldn’t mind the attention.”
I lean into his side to see the screen.
“Have you already messaged them?”
He barks a laugh. “No, I figured I’d need your help with that. I wasn’t sure what to say.Hey, my secret fake girlfriend’s friend is about to marry your ex-fiancée. Is she crazy?I mean, there’s a chance they’re friendly with her.”
“Unlikely,” I scoff.
