Page 21 of Antagonist

I hear their hushed laughter and smile to myself. I should really try to see them more often.

“Okay, fine. I’ll stop by on Sunday.”

“Bring Megan,” Tate says. I know he misses his goddaughter as much as she misses him.

“I’ll ask Stella. This is her weekend.”

“Anyway…” Indy drawls, and I feel a difficult question coming up. The man is an adorable cinnamon roll, but he can certainly pack a punch when it comes to matters of the heart. “Now that you’re settled, when are you going to try out the Stillwater dating pool?”

I groan.

One time. One single time.

Serves me right for getting drunk with Indy. He and Tate wanted to go out dancing after packing up the rest of Tate’s old apartment in Boston. Tate appointed himself the designated driver, and I was upset about my best friend leaving the city, so I let go a little too much.

I can’t remember how many songs it took or exactly what I said, but since that night, Indy seems determined to help me find my soulmate.

“Not happening, Indy,” I say.

“Why not?”

I sigh. I should be in bed sleeping, not talking about my lack of love life with my best friend’s husband.

“I told you. I’ve already used my allocated soulmate credits for this life. From now on, it’s slippers and TV dinners for me.”

Tate laughs. “Dude, first, I bet you’re still fully dressed as if ready to go to work. Second, you hate TV dinners. I’d bet my marriage that you grabbed a sandwich from Lovely Buns on your way home from work.”

“Shut up,” I quip back. Tate knows me too well.

“I knew it,” he says, sounding smug.

“See? You’re not over the hill yet,” Indy says. “What happened to that guy you met at the auction? Isn’t he from Stillwater?”

How does he…? Sage, of course. It shouldn’t surprise me that Indy’s brother would tell them about the auction. After all, whatever that thing between Fletcher and me is, it could be cut with a knife and pinned to a board.

“Nothing happened. He’s a frustrating know-it-all who thinks he can get any man with his good looks alone. He has the dress sense of a sixteen-year-old and probably had to borrow the suit he wore at the auction from a friend. A thousand percent not my type.”

There’s silence on the other side of the line by the time I’ve finished my little rant.

Shit.

“Soo, Harrison, my dear. Nothing happened, right? He’sreallynot your type, huh?” Indy says, and I know the expression on Tate’s face even though I can’t see it.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, it’s midnight and sleep is for babies and the weak. I need to knoweverything,” Indy says.

“Make it short, Hare, because in four hours, this bad boy here won’t be so chirpy when he needs to get up to go to work,” Tate says.

I resign myself and tell them about the auction. How intensely annoying Fletcher was and how he just walked out when I declined a date. How would it have even worked with me living in Boston? Did I have any choice other than to decline?

“You didn’t know he lives in Stillwater,” Tate says.

“No. Not that it would have made any difference. We’re two different people, remember?”

“Yes, you said, hun,” Indy says. “And he has a kid in the same class as Megan?”

“Yup.”