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“Someone kept bumping into the back of my seat,” Meghan continues nostalgically. “It made it so hard to just ignore them. But the whole time, I was just kinda hoping you’d kiss me,” she murmurs to her fiancé, while everyoneoohsandahhs.
Everyone except me and Alana, that is.
“You wanted me to kiss you?” One corner of Cash’s mouth quirks up. “Shit, sorry, Buttercup. I was a coward little shit back then. But you know the fun part about being grown ass adults now?”
“What’s that?” Meghan questions.
Cash tugs her closer. “Now, I get to kiss you as much as I fucking want.”
They launch into a sloppy makeout session that has everyone around the table groaning in a mix of annoyance and disgust.
My eyes briefly catch Alana’s, and I see a pained expression on her face, too.
Shit.
I know Meghan and Cash didn’t bring that up to make us uncomfortable. It’s not their fault that our histories are so intertwined. But damn does it make my chest ache thinking about those days. Back when Alana was mine, and nothing else mattered.
Well, if things weren’t awkward enough before, they sure are now. Even though Alana’s the one who kicked me to the curb, I can’t help but feel bad for her. She deserves to enjoy tonight with her girl friends.
I make a show of pulling my phone out of my pocket. Then I pretend to answer and bullshit my way through a fake one-sided conversation. When I’m ‘done’, I draw to my feet.
“Sorry, guys,” I announce to the group. “Something came up at the station, and I need to go check it out.”
“What?!”
“No way! Party pooper!”
“You better come back out after you take care of business,” Cash demands.
I fake a chuckle at everyone’s protests. “I’ll sure try. Don’t get into too much trouble without me. And make sure Harry drives, or you get a cab.” My eyes sweep across everyone at the table, making sure they hear me loud and clear. Off-duty or not, this is my family, and I’m going to make sure they’re all safe.
“Yes,dad.”
My eyes catch Alana’s on my way out. A little bolt of adrenaline spikes through me. Inwardly, I curse my dumbass body.She divorced you. Take a hint, genius.
After a brief nod at the group, I’m gone. I walk the few blocks to the station. Not that anything truly came up there, but I can still get some work done while everything’s quiet.And as a bonus—free coffee.
Then I’ll go home and try to convince my insomniac brain to get an hour or two of sleep. In the morning, it’s my turn to help Grammy open up the bakery at the crack of dawn.
My plans aren’t exciting, but it sure beats sitting around with my ex-wife who doesn’t want me.
5
DAVIS
“Dude, how many espressos is that now?”
Yawning, I shoot a glance across our grandmother’s bakery at Cash. “Honestly, I’ve lost track. This is what I get for letting you keep me up past my bedtime last night.”
It’s the day after the bachelor party and—surprise, surprise—I feel like shit.
My brother emits a grunt without looking up from where he’s stacking maple banana muffins into a takeout box. “Yeah, right. Don’t try and blame that shit on me. You didn’t even stay out late with us last night. Plus, you’ve been mainlining caffeine for how many years now?”
Jasper and Harry snicker from where they’re kneading dough, whisking eggs and cooking up pies, tall and scruffy and muscular in their faded pink Wildberry Bakery aprons.
I’m tempted to deny Cash’s accusation but my entire family knows that I’m not even functional unless I’ve got a gallon of espresso in my system at all times.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve changed my mattress or moved my bed from one sad corner of my bedroom to the next, the pathetic truth is, ever since my divorce, good sleep has been a thing of the past.
