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“Let me guess,” I said sarcastically, “you were able to get an appointment with a plastic surgeon, and you need me to watch TJ.”
Sasha grinned, ignoring my bad mood as she pushed past me.
“I’ve never been here before,” she said, looking around with her realtor’s eye. “It’s a cool spot.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to make my tone more pleasant, even though I was kind of annoyed with the women in my life. “What can I do for you, Sasha?”
Her heels tapped against my wood floor as she spun slowly, taking it all in before stopping in front of me.
“I wanted in on the fun,” she said with a half shrug, still grinning.
“What fun? Getting me to babysit in exchange for you guys stopping by to clean my house and make sure I’m okay?”
Sasha lifted her eyebrow and folded her arms. “Is that what you got out of what happened today? I mean, yeah, we want to make sure you’re okay, and don’t want to think of you living in a pit of your own making, but that’s not what caused the rallying of the troops today.”
Confused, I leaned my hip against the wall and asked, “Then what was it?”
“We want to make sure that you are making an informed decision, before you screw up your life and ruin you chance with an amazing woman.”
Suddenly, it all clicked.
“The kids…”
“Yeah, the kids,” she replied, punching me lightly in the arm before turning to go and sit in the chair. “Look, Bren, I know all about not wanting to have kids. TJ and I both agreed before we got serious, that kids just weren’t in the cards for either of us … The way we were raised, the parents we had…” She shook her head sadly, and I wondered briefly what she was thinking about, then her face cleared and she brought her brilliant green eyes to mine. “It’s one-hundred percent your decision to make, but when Victoria told us why you and Bronagh broke up, I have to admit, we were all stunned. You’re a kid magnet. They’re drawn to your creative spirit and outgoing personality. We all always imagined you’d be crawling with them once you finally got done whoring and settled down.”
“Whoring, huh?” I asked with a smirk.
“Just calling ‘em like I see ‘em,” Sasha said, detailing one of the things I loved most about her.
“We just want you to be sure … So Shelly concocted the surprise babysitting idea, to show you how much the kids love you, and maybe give you something to think about before you make any rash decisions.”
“Brady let it spill about France, didn’t he?” I asked when I realized what she was talking about.
“He may have said something to your brother last night. Who told Victoria, who told the girls and I over mimosas this morning,” Sasha admitted.
“Can the man keep anything to himself?” I muttered, frustrated that Brady kept diming me out about everything, but kept his secrets close to the vest. “I’m gonna have to get some payback,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.
“If you’re talking about the police academy, he told Brock all about it last night too.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised he was actually going to go through with it.
Sasha nodded, then rose to her feet.
“That’s it?” I asked jokingly. “You aren’t going to do my laundry or something?”
Sasha laughed sharply and said saucily, “Oh, honey, I think you know better than that.” Then she, no shit, strutted to the door, before turning and saying, “Just think about it,” before walking out and closing the door behind me.
I looked at the clock, and realized I didn’t have time to do anything but get my ass to Jake’s. I grabbed the sheet music I’d been working on, eager to show the finished products to Brock and Brady and get their thoughts on them.
I was about to run out the door when I looked down and realized I was still in basketball shorts, so I turned on my heel and ran up the stairs in search of an outfit more conducive to my rock star image.
Chapter Twenty-Six ~ Bronagh
I’d gone home alone last night, even though I’d wanted more than anything to stop by Brendan’s table and see if he wanted to come over.
Just to talk.
Oh, who was I kidding? Yes, we needed to talk, but I also wanted to take him home and jump his bones. I was a weak, weak woman, driven by the memory of a scruffy beard and fantastic orgasms.
