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“That time of the month,” Ty shares.
I smack his chest. “That’s so fucked up.”
Unfazed by my slap, he laughs.
Liam crawls into bed on the other side. “It’s a fact of life, High Society. Don’t be so stuffy.”
Before his words are even finished, Gage appears in the doorway. “What’s this about?”
Liam waves his hand over his crotch. “Girl stuff.”
What the hell?
I scoff. “Did you just gesture to your mangina?”
That makes all three of them cackle, which, I have to admit, is uplifting.
Gage scowls. “Shit. You must be exhausted. Cramps?”
There is not a moment with these men that isn’t mystifying. The guy who once leered at me with a murderous rage wants to know if I have cramps.
“They aren’t so bad,” I assure him. “I’m justmopey.”
His eyes droop as he scrunches his lips in commiseration before forcing a benevolent grin. “That pie is a fucking masterpiece.”
Food is undeniably the key with that one.“I’m glad you liked it.”
“Loved it.” He beams. “Want a movie snack?”
My brows knit together. “You’re going to make me something?”
“Yeah—”
“Microwave popcorn,” Liam taunts. “I want some.”
“No. Not fucking popcorn, dipshit,” Gage barks, and the two disappear, leaving me with Ty.
“So, lay it on me. What’s got you so depressed?” he asks. “And don’t saynothing specific.”
“Fine,” I grumble, twirling a thread from my shirt around my index finger until the skin blanches. “Why does Wells hate me?”
“Hate you?” He unravels my finger so the blood flow returns. “Wells definitely doesn’t hate you, Freckles.”
“He’s avoiding me and agitated,” I argue, smashing my head into my pillow with a groan.
“It’s complicated right now, but I thought everything he did for the wedding would show you—”
“The wedding?” My head pops up like a piece of toast, my breath catching. “I thought that was you and Rena.”
He shakes his head. “I told him what you said, but he arranged everything.”
The cake. It didn’t occur to me before, but the spines of the books were our favorites. The ones we shared my first night here. All of it was so sweet. Maybe there is something between us. My heart squeezes with hope.
When I don’t say anything, Ty adds, “When you’re feeling better, you might want to check out the library.”
He doesn’t expound because Gage and Liam return with snacks and drinks.
Gage hands me a plate of Doritos, covered in melted cheddar cheese and jalapeños, saying, “Trust me,” as he sits in my velvet chair with his own feast.
