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"Taking turns keeping Theresa company at your triplet’s bedside. He’s still unconscious, by the way," Seb murmurs, "thank you, for asking."
"Hey," I scowl, "you don’t get to do that; you don’t get to guilt trip me for mourning the end of my marriage before it even started."
"And who’s fault is that?" He drawls, "I’m not the one who took off—"
"—leaving her behind. Yes, yes, I know. I’m guilty, so sue me."
"I think she’s roasting your ass enough, and deservedly." Seb chuckles. "It’s good to see you crawl, brother."
"Fuck off," I jerk my chin toward the doorway. "No, seriously, get the fuck out of my house, Sebastian."
"Ah, apparently you were right to come here," Massimo prowls through the door, "and you were right that he’s probably crying into his drink like a pussy."
"Hey," I spin around and almost topple over. Oops, wrong move again. Apparently, that’s all I’m good for right now, not being able to take a step without tripping over my own two feet. "Get the fuck out." I straighten, lean an elbow against the bar, miss it and crash into one of the barstools. I hit the floor on my ass and sprawl out. Well, on the flip side, at least my head has some kind of support now, which is fucking helpful.
Massimo’s face hovers in my line of sight. "You okay down there,fratellino, or do you need some help getting up?"
"Nope, not needed." I fold my hands over my chest. "I’m good; class dismissed."
"Did he just say what I think he said—?"
"He did," Seb replies. "Asshole thinks drinking himself into a stupor is the way forward."
"And I thought he was brighter than that."
"Apparently not," Seb snorts.
"Hey," I protest, "I’m still here you,stronzos." Or at least, that’s what I think I say, but all that comes out is a choking sound.
"You say something, oh, enlightened one?" Massimo smirks, then holds out his hand, "Come on, let’s get you to your bed, shall we?"
I open my eyes and groan. My tongue feels too big for my mouth, I try to swallow, and my throat hurts. I sit up, and the headache behind my eyes increases in intensity. Shit, I’m never drinking again. Never.
I notice the glass of water and the two pills next to it. Who placed it there? Massimo? Seb? Doesn’t matter. I down them, drain the glass of water, and stumble to the bathroom. By the time I’m done with the hot shower and am dressed, I feel a little better. I follow the scent of toast and bacon to the kitchen. I head inside and find Massimo and Seb at the breakfast nook with Cassandra serving them breakfast. She sets a plate of food down for me, then moves away.
"What are you doing here?" I frown at her.
"Michael insisted I take over the cooking until you are back on your feet."
"I’m not incapacitated, or has everyone forgotten that?"
"Hey," Massimo growls, "we’re worried about you, okay? Deal with it."
I blow out a breath. "I’m sorry, Cass." I roll my shoulders. "I’m not at my best right now."
"It’s understandable." She places an espresso in front of me. "Did you speak to her yesterday?"
"What do you think?" My stomach churns at the sight of the food. I push away the plate and reach for the espresso. "I met her at the airport, and she asked me to leave; end of story."
"Is it?" Seb places his phone on the table. "Did you ask her to forgive you?"
I drain my espresso, then place the cup back in its saucer. "Of course, I did. Why else would I have gone there?"
The two men exchange a glance.
"What?" I scowl. "I assume you twoteste di cazzohave something to say?"
"Does he always have such a sunny disposition first thing in the morning?" Massimo muses.
