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“Not as much as you make me call yours,” she mutters, and I pretend I didn’t hear a thing asshe hands Mason over and gives me a hell of a view of today's sweatshirt. It has a Zamboni on it, and underneath it saysHockey gives me a Zamboner.
Jesus. I wasn’t ready.
“Zamboner? Really?” I laugh, shaking my head as she stretches it out to give me a better view.
“It’s in honor of our new friend. Mason has one too.” Sure enough, his onesie is a smaller version. “And I have one for you. We can wear them to the hockey game in two weeks. It was really nice of your friend to invite us to sit in the owner’s box. First time at a hockey game and I’m getting the royal treatment.”
I hang my head and sigh. These sweaters are going to be the talk of the box, that’s for sure.
Two weeks gives Gloria plenty of time to make more additions to our outfits, and there’s a good chance she’ll have a matching sweater for Jazz, too. She and I don’t know each other that well, but a Zamboner sweatshirt will give her a lasting impression. It’ll be an interesting game. I can’t wait to see Foster’s face.
“Great. I’m not sure how this could be any more perfect.”
“Oh, I do, and I already have it covered. I’m getting Foster’s name and number put on the back so there’s no question who we’re rooting for.”
Now I definitely can’t wait to see Foster’s face. Rhett’s too.
“My brother will love it.”
“Your brother has a stick up his ass half the time. He’ll get over it. I can’t wait to meet that other brother of yours though. He seems like he’s the nice one in the family. He’s got the perfect golden retriever energy that makes me think—”
“Oh, I’m sure I know what you think,” I cut her off with a grimace. There will never be a day I want to hear about my brother’s dick size. Either of them. She can speculate all she wants when I’m not around to hear it.
Paul scoffs again, lays his newspaper to the side and gives Gloria a look that implies she’s been a bad girl—and that’s my cue to leave. Quickly.
I say my goodbyes to Paul and Gloria who practically shoos me out of the apartment with a nod to Paul and a wink.
As soon as I get back to my apartment, I turn the volume up on the TV. Neither of us needs to hear what’s going on across the hall.
I slump down on the couch and perch Mason on top of my chest. His hands reach for my face, and he gives me a very drooly smile.
“Your mommy is in way over her head.” I kiss his hands while he coos at me and makes a grab for the collar of my shirt. “I knew this fake relationship would bite me in the ass.”
He may not know it, but we’re walking right into the plot of every fake romance novel. It always starts off with the best of intentions, but the more time they spend together, the more lines they cross. They tell themselves they can keep things physical and not fall in love, but of course that’s what happens—every damn time.
The difference here is that this is real life, and things don’t work out the way they do on the page.
While it has the perfect setup, the only one at risk of getting emotionally invested is me.
Which is why I need to grow a pair of lady balls and ask him what this means for us, both in terms of our fake arrangement and our friendship.
If he wants a friends-with-benefits arrangement, I’ll put my heart on lockdown because I can’t say no to these benefits. And if he wants to try for something real…
Before I can dwell on that, my phone chimes with a text.
My first thought is that Foster couldn’t wait until after practice to message me, but I am so wrong.
Unknown: Hey, Avery, it’s Ron.
Unknown: Ron Cooper.
Unknown: We need to talk next time I’m in town.
His timing is the worst. Ron Cooper is a fucking wet blanket. The King of Assholes. The leader of the Douche Bags.
Why now?
Why after all this time does he want to talk to me?
