Page 120 of Point of Contention

“I would never ask you to do that, G, and besides…”—I shrugged—“I was coming to tell you this already, before you told me you wanted to sell the house.”

Her shoulders deflated. “We could move in somewhere together?”

“You already have plans with someone else.”

Her eyes widened slowly. “How did you know?”

“Because you wouldn’t have asked me where I would go.” I laughed. “You would have told me where we were going. I know you.”

Greer’s smile finally broke free. “I’m moving in with Lacey.”

Bitterness curled around my heart, but I fought to keep it at bay, even though I wanted desperately to call her a hypocrite. Somehow, her moving in with Lacey was completely acceptable, but me living with Cabot wasn’t? Didn’t seem fair to me, but I kept it to myself. I didn’t want to fight with Greer, especially while she was going through so much already.

But we’d have to address it at some point.

And she’d have to accept it at some point too.

Cabot wasn’t going anywhere.

If anything, I got the sneaking suspicion that if I asked him to, he’d marry me without a second’s pause.

Which was terrifying, but also… sort of… beautiful.

I turned to my mom and raised my eyebrows. “Well, Mama, that leaves you.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I am. I love him.”

“It’s just so fast…” Greer added.

I sighed. “You and Lacey happened fast, too.”

“But I’d known her for months.” She waved her hand. “You know she came to the bar all the time.”

“He loves me. I love him.” I shrugged. “We want to be together.” I gave her a wistful smile. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Greer huffed. “I’m not mad at you, RyRy, I just worry.”

I groaned. “Seems to be a theme around here.”

Mom chuckled. “Consider yourself well loved, honey.”

Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. “Too loved, maybe.”

“No such thing.”

Mom stood and sliced into the frittata cooling atop the stove, then set a plate in front of each of us. Sparing a quick glance to the empty seat where Len used to sit during our family meals, she sat down and looked at me pointedly. “Eat.”

“Oh my god,” I groaned. “You literally just set it in front of me.” I picked up my fork and stabbed into the steaming egg and broccoli pie.

“What did you eat with Cabot?”

Irritation itched across my shoulders, but I knew her well enough to know that I needed to tell her everything I ate for the last three days or she’d never let me move away from her and Greer. Not that they had a choice in the matter, but I wanted this move to be as seamless as possible—and I desperately wanted their support.

“Cheese, charcuterie, pasta, salad… omelette, croissant…” I took a bite of frittata, then added around a mouthful, “Popcorn. Wine.”

My boyfriend’s cock.