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“That better not be work,” she warned.
“I don’t work anymore.”
“Very funny.” She sipped her coffee. “Is there at least part of you that’s enjoying the break? Besides us sharing a bedroom?” she added, figuring he would’ve added it for her.
“It still chaps my ass that most of Monarch’s grand pooh-bahs would rather send me out the door than come into the twenty-first century with me.”
“They’re in love with the way things were, which is standard for most old companies. Monarch’s stockholders were nervous when Emmons died and there wasn’t anything you were going to be able to do to prevent that.”
She’d vowed to table this conversation until after his hiatus but since he’d opened the discussion she no longer saw the point in holding her tongue.
“You are not your father. The changes you made when you took over were made because you’re different from your father. I didn’t like who you were changing into.” She ignored his pleated brow and continued. “I wanted my Flynn back.”
He watched her for a long beat. In a way Flynn was never hers, and yet he’d always belonged to her in some fashion. She didn’t have the romantic part of his heart—even now. Her smile came easily when she considered what a relief that was. Flynn’s place was at her side. They could care about each other, blow each other’s minds in bed and escape their entanglement unscathed. She had faith in both of them—and anyway, he’d already promised their friendship wouldn’t change.
“I deserve that.” His shoulders lifted and dropped in a sigh of surrender. “You’ve always looked out for me, Sabrina. Always.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, gently holding her fingers, his eyes on his empty plate.
“I always will be.” Just as she knew he’d be there for her.
Sabrina collected her pajamas and a few more changes of clothing from her apartment. Flynn had invited her to stay and she’d failed at reasoning her way out of it. Not that she should. They had always needed each other and now they needed each other in a different way, a physical way. She was more than happy to reap the rewards for the rest of their sabbatical.
“Rewards like an insanely hot, wealthy best friend who curls your toes in the evening and makes you laugh in the daytime.”
Even though she was talking to herself and no one else was there, she hesitated to use the word boyfriend or the phrase “guy she was dating” because that wasn’t who Flynn was. Not really.
“Then who is he?” she asked herself after collecting her mail. She walked to her bedroom dresser and plucked out a few shirts along with a few pairs of sexy underwear worthy of hot nights in the sack.
He was...
“Flynn.”
That was enough explanation for her.
She hesitated packing pajamas before tossing a shorts set onto the bed. The oft-ignored top shelf of her closet caught her eye, specifically the spines of her journals. It’d been a long time since she sat and sketched an idea for a painting, or wrote an entry.
A vision of her in a T-shirt, stroking the brush down the canvas, filled her with purpose, and when Flynn stepped into the picture and swept her hair aside to kiss her neck, a zing of excitement flitted through her.
She flipped through the journals in search of inspiration, finally settling on the one filled with sketches of birds. If Flynn’s mantel needed anything, it was a breath of life. A bird on a perch watching over his lonely penthouse when she wasn’t there sounded perfect. It made her sad to think of “the end,” but before she could explore that thought further another journal toppled from the uppermost shelf and fell open.
She bent to retrieve it, smiling at her sloppy college handwriting and doodles in the margins. She’d written about places where she and Flynn—and Gage and Reid—had hung out back in their college years. Chaz’s, which had been their hangout ever since, and the restaurant that served the best burger in town: Fresh Burger. Before veggie burgers were trending, they’d served up a black-bean and poblano pepper masterpiece that the guys sometimes chose over basic beef. She slapped the book shut, pleased with her finding. She had another idea for what she and Flynn could do together.
“Besides have sex,” she reminded herself. Her mission during this hiatus was to guide Flynn back to his former self.
She packed the journals with the rest of her clothes into a bag and carried her things to the door. She’d just pulled out her front door key to lock up when a thick Chicago-accented voice behind her nearly scared her out of her skin.
“Your boyfriend called about the plumbing. You know you can call me and talk to me directly. You don’t have to send in the heavy.” Her landlord had a thick dark mustache, a receding hairline and a particularly unpleasant demeanor.
“I did call you directly, Simon,” she told him patiently. “You didn’t return my calls. Also, Flynn is my best friend not my boyfriend.”
He frowned and so did she. Clarifying that for herself was one thing, but there really wasn’t any reason to do it for her landlord.
“I’m not sure when we’re going to have it fixed.” His dark eyes inventoried her tote bag and her person in a way that made her uncomfortable.
“Well, you have my number. And Flynn’s. Flynn and I actually are dating, I don’t know why I said we weren’t.”
Fortunately, Mrs. Abernathy picked that opportune moment to open her front door and save Sabrina from their potentially lecherous landlord.
