I started stewing again.
“It’ll be what it’ll be,” he said gently.
“Whatever,” I replied.
“Do you think, even for a second, that either of us, or Raye and Cap, Jessie and Eric, Mace, Tex, fuck, any of us would let them be unhappy for the long haul?”
And it totally sucked when he said something and that meant I couldn’t settle in my stew.
I blew out a breath and gave in. “Okay. I’ll let it happen how it happens.”
He gave me a squeeze. “Good call.”
My eyes fell on Shaw.
“So Shaw’s the only one who’s free and breezy,” I remarked.
I got another squeeze and looked back at Knox.
“Leave it,” he ordered again.
“What?” I asked.
“No matchmaking either.”
I thought about it and said, “I don’t have anyone to match him with.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered, and went back to the game.
I mentally perused my friend posse, most of which was in that room, but there were some outliers.
And no.
No one was good enough for Shaw (that was one reason why they were outliers).
I guessed we’d have to wait and see on that one.
“Share another plate of nachos?” I asked my guy.
“Perfect,” he muttered to the game.
I unwedged myself and went to the dining room table to scoop up a shit-ton of nachos on a plate.
I grabbed a bowl of cashews so they’d be close on the way back.
I rewedged myself with my man.
In the end, Knox was happy because his team won.
And I was happy because the halftime show rocked.
“Turn on the audio.”
“I’m not turning on the audio.”
“We need to hear what’s going on.”
“I’m not turning on the audio. They should have privacy. It’s skeevy just watching it.”
