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“Are you sure? You can stay here if you want,” I said, still running my hand up and down her back. “The couch is pretty comfortable. Or you can have my bed, and I can take the couch.”
Mia sat up and shook her head. “I want to go home. Can you call my dad while I throw up?”
Mia got up and stumbled to the bathroom as if nothing had happened. She groaned as she fell into one wall before sinking to the ground and crawling the rest of the way to the washroom.
It had been long since I had last seen her this drunk. She was better off without Jaxon, but the next few weeks would be hell while she got over the relationship.
Mia tended to fall in love hard and fast when we were in university. She would think that she was head over heels for these men, and then when they broke her heart a few weeks later, she would spend nearly a month mourning a relationship that never was.
I sighed and sent a message to Brett while Mia retched. When she finally stumbled back into the living room, the color drained from her face, and she looked ready to pass out.
A knock at my door a few minutes after Mia sank back into the couch. I let out a deep breath and walked to the door, trying to prepare myself to act normal around Brett. I doubted I could, but I would put my best effort forward.
When I opened the door, his warm gaze drifted down my body. Then, finally, he looked back up at me with a small smile and a wink before looking over my shoulder at Mia.
“How is she doing?” he asked, stepping into my apartment.
His cologne wrapped around me as he reached down and hooked his finger around mine. He gave my finger a light squeeze before heading to the couch. Mia looked up at him with watery eyes.
“She’s been worse. She needs to sleep this off and be better in the morning.”
“I never liked that guy,” Brett said as he picked up Mia. “You should have dumped him months ago. You’re far too good for him.”
Mia mumbled something into her father’s shoulder as her eyes drifted shut. Brett looked at me with a small smile and winked again before carrying Mia out of the apartment.
I shut the door behind them, wondering what would happen if Mia ever found out I was sleeping with her father.
There was an excellent chance that it would ruin my friendship forever.
Chapter Eight: Brett
“Youdon’tknowhowglad I am that Mia went away this weekend,” I said, stepping behind Georgia and wrapping my arms around her waist. “I feel like we haven’t had a lot of time to be alone with each other in the last couple of weeks.”
Georgia smiled over her shoulder at me, putting the knife to the side, the carrots abandoned as I kissed her. Her mouth moved against mine, her touch light against my skin as she reached back and cupped my face.
When we finally separated, she sighed and relaxed into my embrace. It felt like tension she didn’t even know she was holding was finally starting to fade away.
How did I get lucky enough to have her in my life?
I stared at her momentarily, trying to figure out how to bring up our relationship. Though she enjoyed our time together, Georgia acted cagey if I even mentioned taking it to another level.
I understood why. There were more complications surrounding us than in a normal relationship.
My daughter, her best friend, was at the center of those complications.”
“How has Mia been doing?” I asked her. She leaned into my touch as I ran my thumb over her cheek.
“Mia is getting better now. The breakup was hard on her, but she seemed like she was starting to cheer up again. I hope that it lasts. The last thing she needs is to be held back by Jaxon.”
“She’s lucky to have a friend like you,” I said, though I couldn’t ignore the slight guilt that curled through me at those words.
Often, it was easy to forget that Georgia was Mia’s best friend. I am not constantly reminded of the relationship with my daughter, but I certainly feel like shit when I am.
People said that you couldn’t help who you fell in love with.
Every time I looked at Georgia, I was reminded of how true that was.
“Georgia, I’m tired of just sneaking around and having sex whenever we can.” I kiss her bare shoulder, just beside the thin strap of her camisole.
