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“Hmm?” the small child answered, back to tucking flowers behind the canines’ ears.
“I’m going to kiss your mommy now. Can I do that?”
“Only if I get two chocolates and an ice cream.”
“You drive a hard bargain, but I’ll take it.”
Then I leaned Dylan back and gave the entire playground a display that almost landed me in jail.
RHYLAND
Figuring I still had some time to burn before Row arrived to deliver my well-deserved punch, I decided to hit the building’s gym. I frequented it every morning, and today was no different, but I needed to release some steam before this conversation.
I hit the StairMaster for twenty minutes before winging an all-body workout (I usually followed an A/B plan with two-day stretches and yoga to lengthen those godly limbs). It was toward the end of my workout when disaster struck. Sweaty and spent, I was reaching for the forty-pound dumbbells when someone grabbed a fifty-pound dumbbell from behind me and dropped it on my fingers. Pain exploded all over my knuckles. I hissed out, arching my back and tugging my fingers from beneath the crushing weight.
As it happened, I had help. Row—who I now spotted behind me in the mirror—grabbed me by the back of the neck and walked me toward the opposite wall, a snarl on his face.
“Hello, bestie.” He slammed my back against the wall.
I dodged his fist when he sent it straight to my face, grabbed him by the base of his throat, and gave him a hard “don’t fuck with me” squeeze.
Yeah, I’d messed up with Dylan, but other than this one transgression, I’d been an impeccable friend to him. In fact, if it weren’t for me helping his wife with her grand gesture before they got married, he’d still be pining for her ass.
Row curled his fingers around the arm that was squeezing his throat, trying to pry my touch off. “You have some fucking nerve, hitting me back,” Row growled.
I released him, and he stumbled backward, looking flushed and pissed off.
“You came all the way to New York to take a cheap shot?” I shook my head. “Do you have no goddamn life at all? I wouldn’t come to personally hit you if you fucked my own mother.”
“First of all, you hate your mother.” Row erected one finger. “Second, she’s not my taste.” A second finger. “Third, I warned you not to touch her.” He now raised his middle finger, sticking it in front of my face. “Fourth, I was already on the way to a business meeting. Now, kindly tell me what in the ever-loving shit is going on here.”
I frowned down at my fingers, extending and curling them to make sure they weren’t broken. What a prick my best friend was. Who did something like that? He knew this was my jerk-off hand.
“Christ, Row. You’re insane.” I shook my head. “You could’ve broken all my fingers.”
“Are you going to apologize for screwing my sister?” Row growled.
“No,” I said honestly, looking up at him finally.
“No?” His eyebrows jumped up. He was not expecting that answer.
“No,” I confirmed. “I’ve already pulled one shitty stunt on you by keeping this a secret. I’m not going to lie to you again. I’m not sorry it happened. In fact, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I would die a thousand deaths at your hands from now until eternity and still not regret the briefest touch I shared with your sister, so you might as well punch me now. You’ve sure as hell earned it.”
I thought this little speech would at least earn me a second of grace, but no. Row tilted his head back and laughed hysterically, as if I’d just told him I was joining the circus as a goddamn contortionist.
“Drop the charade, Rhy. You can’t catch feelings. They’re not transmitted via blow jobs.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I do like your sister.” I sidestepped him, my shoulder crushing his purposely.
“Like her or love her?” he enquired.
“Like her enough to be mindful with her feelings. I give a shit, okay?”
He stalked out of the gym behind me. “Giving a shit is the bare minimum. And it’s usually enough if there’re two people involved. But my niece is in the picture too. Did you ever stop to think about what you were walking into?”
I punched the elevator button and ground my teeth in annoyance.
Row clipped my shoulder. “No, seriously, Coltridge. I—”