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Nina
Nina
I wake up to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. The irresistible, unmistakable smell of toast, eggs and bacon wafts into the bedroom.
My stomach growls with hunger. All I ate yesterday since breakfast was the peanut butter, M&M’s, and hot chocolate. As delicious and nostalgic as they were, that’s not exactly a balanced diet.
Brock is still sleeping next to me, chest rising and falling slowly and steadily. He has a little smile on his face and his arm is draped over me. He looks . . . happy. As happy as I feel.
I can’t believe we came so close to losing each other all because our fucking psycho exes just can’t let shit go. God knows how they found each other and formulated this crazy-ass plan to split us up.
I guess family gatherings at Brock’s are going to be awkward now. Maybe he’ll tell his cousin exactly how crazy Rosa is, and there’s a chance he’ll just cut her out of his life forever.
As for Peter . . . well, I’ll cross that bridge when I have to. One thing’s for sure, though—if he so much as looks at me, I’ll call the cops. Maybe spending some time in a cell will wake him up a little.
But he’s not my responsibility anymore. I refuse to let him influence my life, my happiness, in any way. He’s dead to me.
I stretch and yawn. The movement dislodges Brock’s heavy arm. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles as he sees me.
“Good morning,” he mumbles sleepily. “I thought I was having the nicest dream, with you asleep next to me again. Thank God it’s not just a dream.”
I kiss him softly on the lips. “Good morning. Yeah, yesterday seems like some sort of horrible, twisted nightmare. We can’t let anything like that happen again.”
“Never,” he says, eyes solemn.
He glances down, and I giggle to see a bulge in the sheets. “Last night wasn’t enough for you?”
“I can never have enough of you,” he says, grinning, reaching out for me.
I shuffle away with a giggle. “Later, Brock. Try and keep your hands to yourself for a minute.”
He looks at me with big pleading puppy dog eyes. I’m seriously considering climbing right back into bed when Dean’s voice comes ringing through the door.
“You two going to get out of bed and eat your breakfast?” he yells. “It’s getting cold!”
I smile. “Coming!”
I throw on some sweatpants and wander out into the kitchen.
Dean’s already dressed for work, suited and booted, sipping on a steaming cup of coffee. “Morning,” he grumbles. “Thought you’d never get up.”
I pour myself a cup of joe and take a sip with a sigh of satisfaction. “How come when I make coffee at home, it never tastes as good as this?”
He taps his nose. “Ancient big brother secret. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Dean stretches and yawns—he looks tired. When Brock exits my bedroom a minute later, he shoots his friend a look.
“Couldn’t you two have kept it down last night? I had to sleep with noise-cancelling headphones on, and now my neck hurts.”
I feel myself blushing, but Brock just laughs.
“Sorry,” Brock says as he pours his own cup of coffee and sits down to eat his breakfast.
We chat over breakfast—our plans for the day, catching up on gossip, stuff like that. Just light conversation. It feels like nobody wants to go in-depth on all the drama and intensity of the previous day’s events.
That suits me just fine. It’s over and done with. We’re all moving forward with our lives.
“So when are you guys going to fly back?” Dean asks. “You can crash here for as long as you like. Well, assuming you can keep quiet at night that is.”
Brock glances at me. “It’s up to Nina. If she doesn’t feel ready to go back to the city yet, I can call up the office and tell them we’re taking a few personal days. Perks of being the boss.”
Dean smiles at his friend. “The old Brock I knew would never have done that for some girl.”
“Well, Nina’s not just some girl, Dean.”
My brother nods. “That’s true.”
We chatter for a few minutes more before Dean checks his watch and swears.
“I’m going to be late for work, thanks to you two. I’ve got to rush. Let me know what your plans are okay?”
He kisses me on the cheek, and then he and Brock have a somewhat awkward hug.
It may take a while for them to get back to how they were, but I know it’ll come. Their friendship is too old and strong to be destroyed by something like this.
He charges out of the front door, leaving Brock and me alone. We sit in silence for a few moments, just staring into each other’s eyes.
“Is it really okay for you to be missing work?” I ask. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
