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“Dude, that’s my fucking sister.” Rhett’s words break through my lust-addled brain, but they hold no bite.
Lucy and Elle—or at least that’s who I’m assuming it is—hushes him before Tag chimes in, “He’s definitely going to be kicking your ass.”
Avery reluctantly pulls away and buries her face in my chest with a laugh. I press a kiss into her hair and rub my hands up and down her back because I can’t stop touching her. “Should we go in and join them for your early birthday game night? I thinkCards Against Humanityis first.”
“In a minute, I want a little more of you.”
“You’ve got me, Avery,” I whisper against her temple, inhaling the strawberry scent of her shampoo.
“How did you get the cake to look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like a volcano a third grader made for the science fair.”
I huff a laugh, glancing over her head, meeting Rhett’s gaze and then promptly ignoring it. “I forgot to use cooking spray, so only the top half of each pan came out.”
“It’s the best birthday cake ever.”
“It’s a bloody disaster.”
“But it’s mine.”
Fuck.So am I.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I’m not sure it ever felt fake.
I’m still reeling over those seven words almost twenty-four hours later as I walk into the coffee shop where I’ll be meeting Ron. I’d call him the biggest mistake of my life, but I got Mason out of our bullshit relationship, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
Not to mention it got me here, and not to jinx anything, but I’m pretty happy with the way my life is right now.
After ordering an iced caramel macchiato, I take a seat at a small table in the back corner. It’s the most private, and I’m not sure what to expect. Ron never told me why he wanted to have this meeting, although I can only assume it’s about Mason. I really hope he didn’t expect me to bring him here, especially since he didn’t even bother to ask his name.
He’s also late, and I hope that’s not an indication of how today is going to go.
Instead of watching the door, I take out my phone to text Foster and see a few pictures Lucy had sent me of Mason. She’s only been babysitting for about twenty minutes, but it looks like they’ve already gone through four different outfits.
“You didn’t order one for me?”
I set my phone—screen down—on the table, and my gaze flicks to Ron who’s looming over me, his hands jammed in his pockets, and a frown cemented on his face. I’d ask if he’s joking, but I know he’s not. The man has zero sense of humor. He’s also completely delusional if he thinks I’m going to go out of my way to do literally anything for him.
“Why would I order anything for you?” I make a point to take a sip of my drink and gesture to the other side of the table. “Have a seat.”
His brows draw together as he pulls out the chair and sits. “You’re different.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not sure that was a compliment.”
“Well, I’m taking it as one.”
Last year I would’ve shrunk down into my seat and taken all the shit he was handing over.
Not today.
Today I’m a completely different woman—I have confidence.
