Page 68 of Not In The Contract

“I hadn’t noticed,” I lied.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her brows pinched in concern.

“Yeah, of course,” I lied again, drying my hands on my pants. “Why?”

“You seem a little spaced,” she mused. “I hope that it isn’t because of what we talked about.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m just tired.”

She looked thoroughly unconvinced but didn’t push me, and I appreciated her backing off. I wasn’t sure I could be pushed just then. Venting about Jamie had left me a lot more shaky than I’d expected, and telling Devon would only make her worry. It wasn’t her fault I was emotionally constipated, as Hayden often called me.

“Have you ever used your living room?” she asked suddenly.

“Um, no,” I answered with slight trepidation. “Why?”

“It’s always looked so perfect,” she remarked with a shy grin. “Like it’s a display in a store or something. We should use it!”

“What for?”

“Forliving.” She giggled.

A little confused, I followed her into the living room.

She ditched her slides and shuffled around on the rug before dropping onto the white sofa.

“Oh God, these are not comfortable.” She grimaced, rubbing a hand over her lower back. “What did you even get these for?”

I shrugged. “They looked right,” I answered, watching her shift around, obviously looking for a more comfortable spot.

“Did you even test them out?”

“Test them out for what?”

“Forsitting, Alex!”

Exasperation poked through the rawness and I marched over, convinced that she was being dramatic.

“They’re not that bad,” I said, and sat on the sofa next to her. And immediately regretted it.

“Ow, what the fuck?”

Devon giggled beside me and punched the hard cushion. “Told you.”

I huffed out a strangled chuckle as I, too, looked for a more comfortable position, only to come up short. “I’m getting rid of these tomorrow,” I decided.

“How did you even shop for your place?” Devon laughed.

I frowned. “My interior designer drew up the plans and I approved them.”

“I should have guessed.” She sighed. “How long have you lived here?”

A smile threatened to twist my expression. “Six years.”

“Six years?!” she gasped, leaping up off the sofa. “You haven’t sat on these sofas in six whole years? You’ve never entertained any guests? Hell, has Jamie not even sat on these?”

“No, why is that so weird to you?” I chuckled. “You’ve lived my schedule firsthand, where do you think I have the time to entertain people in my home?”

She frowned. “Your schedule isalwayslike that?”