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And every night since we’ve returned, she’s been at our place, cooking us dinner and sleeping in our beds. When she’s not at Heart’s, she’s with us. A few times, she even brought us lunch at the office. And last weekend, we spent the entire two days holed up in the condo, ordering in, binge-watching Netflix, and inside her.
I love it, and if it weren’t for her having to go home once the kids get back, I’d never let her leave. But Bree’s a good mom, and she’s going to want to take shit slow, so they aren’t affected by her moving forward from their dad—with two guys.
Brody: Leaving now.
Brody: And so is Hayden.
As the second text comes through, Brody comes sauntering through my office doorway. I’ve only been working with him for a short time, but the difference in the environment is night and day. Unlike my dad, who acts like he wants your opinion but won’t listen, Brody values the words that come out of my mouth.
“I was thinking we should take Bree to dinner tomorrow night. She mentioned the kids will be home Monday or Tuesday, and I’m sure shit will slow down once they’re back,” he says, obviously on the same page as I am.
“Yeah, sounds good,” I say, closing my laptop. “We should make it special. Spend the night somewhere. A little mini staycation.”
Brody nods in agreement. “That could be fun. I’ll see if my parents recommend anywhere.”
“We could go to a winery,” I mention. “She loves that shit.”
“Good thinking.”
Since we work together, we share a car to and from work, which is nice. And since Bree demands—without actually doing so—that we’re home at a decent hour for dinner every night, I feel like I’ve seen more of Brody lately than I did during all the years we’ve been living together prior to Bree.
The delicious aroma coming from the kitchen has my stomach grumbling in excitement when we walk through the door. We’re met with Bree, standing at the stove, stirring something, and thoughts of our future flit through my head: her pregnant with our babies, the kids’ laughter filling the silence, her clothes occupying half the closet. Dinners and breakfasts and family trips. I never imagined wanting any of it, but I want it all with her… and Brody.
I glance at my best friend, and I can tell by the dopey expression on his face he’s thinking the same thing as me—forever with Bree looks damn good.
“Hey,” she says, “how was work?”
“Busy,” Brody says, going over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. I follow, giving her one on her neck. We both grab a beer from the fridge and lean against the island.
“How was your day?” I ask, checking out the way her shirt rises when she leans over the stove to turn it off, showing off the swells of her ass since she’s only in a pajama shirt and tiny underwear.
“So good.” She beams. “Remember how I brought samples by several bakeries last week?”
Brody convinced her to take her baked goods to the next level by distributing them to places that outsource their goods. We compiled a list, and then she created a box filled with samples to take to each business to pitch her products.
“Well, two of them called me today wanting to sign a six-month contract!” She giggles happily. “It’s going to mean more work, but with the additional income, I’ll be able to afford to hire Jessica full time to do the baking! And if I can get a few more contracts like those two, I should have no problem finding a new place to rent.”
I’m bringing my beer to my lips to take a swig, but her words stop me in my place. “Where are you going?”
She takes the pot off the stove and glances at me with a frown. “I have to be moved out of my apartment by the end of the year. I’d rather not be moving in the middle of winter, so I’m hoping to find a place soon. I haven’t looked at apartments yet, but with the additional income, I imagine I’ll be able to afford something halfway decent now.”
Brody and I share a glance. If it were up to us, the only place she and her kids would be moving to is here, but she’s not there yet.
“Congratulations,” Brody says. “I have no doubt every one of those businesses will be begging you for your baked goods. They’re like fucking crack.”
Bree rolls her eyes and laughs, handing us each a plate of food. Since it’s just the three of us, we eat at the island.
“We should celebrate,” I say. “Brody and I were thinking we could take you away tomorrow night. A quick trip before the kids come home. Think you can have someone go in for you tomorrow and Sunday?”
