Page 75 of Crazy In Love

All the things that feel off.

But then I bring my focus down again, to the man lying flat against my mattress, his belly pressed to the bed and the ends of his hair tangling with his lashes. He sleeps silently, his plump lips pressed into kissable lines and his soft breathing almost as gentle as a lullaby.

Jesus. He’s perfect and has no clue.

His leg drapes over mine, his arm lying heavily across my hips. He’s naked as the day he was born. His muscular ass on show and his broad back, a delicious canvas to stare at and study… any other day.

But not today.

It’s a school day!

Frantic, I twist and snatch up my phone, jumping to my call log so I can call Alana and beg for her forgiveness, but I catch Tommy’s name in my text inbox first, his messages—three of them.

I think you might’ve forgotten something, New York. Don’t stress it. I’ll drive Franky today, since I’m heading to the gym afteranyway.

Alana thinks you and I made that deal already, so don’t admit you forgot. It’ll hurt her feelings, and she’s deep in the post-baby hormone surge. She finally had a good sleep, so whatever you do, don’t ruin her mood.

And then finally,

Alana says she’s up to exploring outside the house today. Which means she and Hazel are on their way to you. Remember what I said about school drop-off. You’re still the perfect best friend who could never step wrong. No need to admit you’re human now. Probably shouldn’t hit an eight o’clock movie on a school night, though. Franky’s tired, too.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” I toss my phone and smack Chris’ ass. “Wake up!”

He startles, pushing up to his elbows and looking straight ahead through squinting, unfocused eyes. “What?”

“Get up!” I throw his leg off and roll off the bed, bending and snatching up his jeans and shorts. “Get up, Chris! You have to go.”

“The hell is wrong?” He searches the room in a daze, glancing toward the window and crushing his eyes closed. “Time is it?”

“It’s nearly nine!”

Finally, his eyes snap open. “What?”

“We slept in. Like,a lot!” I sprint to my open suitcase and dig out a pair of underwear, pulling them up my legs and settling the band over my hips. Then I look for a shirt.

Chris slumps back to the bed with a huff. “Can’t be nine. I don’t sleep that long.”

“You did today! And now Alana’s on her way here.”

He pushes up again, meerkat style, and far more alert this time around. “What?”

“Get dressed!” I drag my shirt over my head and down to cover my torso, and running back to the bed, I grab his boxers and toss them at his chest. “There is literally no story we can tell Alana that would explain this away. Get dressed and leave. Now!”

Finally, he bounds out of bed and stumbles, tripping over his boots. Hetears his boxers up one leg, hopping to get the silk up the other. “She’s coming here? When?”

“I don’t know! Soon. Tommy said?—”

“Fox?” Alana knocks on my door, the jingle of her keys like a storm siren screaming across a silent town. “You awake?”

“Oh my God!” I grab his jeans and shirt, balling and slamming them to his chest, then I fist his hair and shove himdown. “Under the bed,” I hiss. “Get under the friggin’ bed!”

“Are you insane? Fox, I can’t?—”

“Now!” I find pockets of strength and slam the monstrous fighter down. Then tossing my blankets over the bed so it looks half decent, I make damn sure the covers drape all the way to the floor and hide the guy almost too long to fit without curling up on himself.

He releases a grunt, smacking his…somethingon the frame. A shoulder, maybe, but when the lock tumbles open on my front door, I spin and sit, straight spine and a fake smile plastered on my face so I’m ready when Alana steps through.

“Hey!” I’m still in my underwear. Just a shirt. No bra. Standing again, I stalk across the apartment and help her with her million things, pulling an overloaded diaper bag off one arm, then scooping Hazel’s heavy car seat from her other hand until her tired frame is… well, a little less weighed down. “You look more rested than last night.” I turn into the room and set the bag on the floor by my suitcase, and placing Hazel’s seat down, I unsnap her restraints, feeding her sweet little arms through the straps and lifting her out. “You fell asleep at the table.” I turn and watch with my heart in my throat as she silently, robotically, wanders toward my bed. “Uh… you doing okay, honey?”