Page 8 of The Sunday Brothers Novellas

CHAPTER THREE

TEAGAN

“Sounds great, Patsy! Talk soon.”

I slammed my laptop shut, stared at the wall, and grinned dopily.

I liked to think I’d always been a fairly optimistic person, but if someone had told me a year ago just how much my life would change for the better in such a short time, I would’ve told them to fuck off with their manifestation bullshit because I didn’t believe in that stuff.

Then this guy—the world’s sweetest, strongest, most gorgeous man—had offered to move a random stranger’s sofa… and here I was.

I sat there for ten whole seconds, letting my giddy excitement wash over me.

Then I did what I always did when I got good news.

“John! Johnny, come here! You are not going to belieeeeve—” I broke off as the apartment door slammed shut.

What the heck? I’d asked him to wait.

“John?” I demanded. I walked down the hall to the empty living room, where my phone was quacking forlornly. I swiped it off the couch before heading to the apartment door.

“John?” I called into the echoing hallway. “If you forgot the mail, just leave it. I need to?—”

Belatedly, I looked down at my phone.

JOHNNY

Hey. Congrats on your big news. I’m not feeling like great company tonight, so we’ll celebrate soon, okay? Have a great evening with John.

What in the fucking fucksticks?

A great evening with John ?

Also, since when did either of us care about whether we were great company or not?

John had gotten me Boston Cream Pie ice cream and deleted the Grindr app in solidarity with me back in June after a particularly horrible date.

I’d made him chicken soup and brought him cold compresses when he was sick back in April, because he’d been so miserably feverish that nothing in the apartment had felt like the right temperature.

We were not “company” friends.

Also-also, he was acting like he knew what my big news was when he couldn’t possibly, because I hadn’t officially known about it until five minutes ago, and I hadn’t told anyone the details ahead of time, because I’d wanted John to be the first to know.

“John?” I yelled, louder now, leaning over the railing so I could see down to the lobby. “What the heck is?—”

But I heard the distant sound of the outside door clicking as John left the building.

“Teagan? What’s going on, boo?”

Our across-the-hall neighbor, Monica, stood in her doorway wearing pajamas and carrying something that looked suspiciously like a margarita in her hand.

“It’s John. He’s acting bizarre all of a sudden. I wanted to talk to him?—”

“About your big news, right.” Monica nodded. She winced sympathetically. “He didn’t take it well when you told him? Did he… did he cry?”

“What? Why would he cry?” I shook my head. “I didn’t even get to talk to him. I was on a Zoom, and when I finished, he was gone. Then he sends me this.” I gestured with my cell phone, and Monica stepped into the hall to read it over my shoulder.

“Is that Teagan?” a voice called from inside Monica’s apartment. My friend Fern appeared a second later, also in pajamas and holding a drink.

“Fern?” I blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“A little something I’m calling Margaritas and Mischief—” Monica began.

Fern interrupted her. “ Bupbupbup. Hey. We’ll ask the questions.” The teal-dipped ends of her dark hair bounced as she pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’d best get in here and explain yourself, young man.”

“What?” I asked, bewildered.

Monica took my phone and handed it to Fern, who scanned it quickly.

“What does John mean, ‘enjoy your night with John’?” she asked.

“John means, you know, John .” Monica widened her eyes significantly. “Not John -John, but Other- John. The one Teagan went out with last night.”

“And you’re seeing Other -John two nights in a row? Teagan, really.” Fern shook her head disappointedly. “What about John- John? Have you considered his feelings at all?”

Wait, what the hell was going on?

And how was this somehow my fault?

The word “John” had been repeated so much it was starting to lose all meaning.

“I’m not seeing John tonight! I was supposed to have plans with my John.

” My cheeks went hot. “I mean, my roommate John. We were going to watch Knightfall , but then I told him I had news and said I wanted to postpone Netflix Night so we could go out and celebrate my news instead, and…” I shook my head again. “I have no idea what’s going on. ”

Fern and Monica exchanged a look. “Come in, honey,” Monica said, gesturing me toward her apartment. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Give me back my phone,” I told Fern once we’d gotten inside. “I’m going to text my… roommate… and ask him what the fuck.”

But Fern didn’t give the phone back. Instead, Monica handed me a giant water glass full of slushy strawberry margarita and pushed me down onto the overstuffed sofa.

“So, what is your news?” Fern asked, sitting on the coffee table right in front of me.

I squirmed, reluctant. “Do you remember me mentioning how John’s sister and I wrote a children’s book? Well, it’s about that. And I wanted to tell John before I told everyone, because he’s the one who inspired everything, and… yeah.”

I still wanted to tell John first. This felt like his news as much as mine, in a way.

I gulped down my margarita.

“You wrote a book,” Monica said flatly. “ That’s your news?”

“Could you sound a little more excited?” I demanded. “Yes, that’s the news. Jeez. When was the last time you wrote a book?”

Monica and Fern exchanged another look.

“We thought the news was about John,” Fern said. “ Other- John.”

I stared at her blankly. “Why the heck would you think that? We went on one date. It was… fine, I guess? Not newsworthy.”

“But.” Monica frowned and sat on the sofa beside me. “You got all dreamy over him. When we were walking in earlier, I asked how your date was last night, and you were all moony and distracted.”

“Not because of my date,” I assured her. “Because I’d just gotten an email about the book. ”

“Ohhh.” Monica winced. “Uh. I may have jumped to a teeny, tiny conclusion…”

“Question.” Fern lifted a finger in the air but kept her eyes on my phone screen. “Does this Other-John person realize that your date with him was only meh? Because these texts… ‘Last night was so magical, Teagan’? ‘I need to see you tonight’? That doesn’t sound meh.”

“What texts? Give me that.” I snatched the phone away from her and quickly scrolled.

“Oh, ew . Noooo. Nope.” I flashed Fern a guilty grimace.

“He was nice enough, but I was actually sitting across from the poor guy the whole night thinking how much I’d rather have been home.

He caught me daydreaming like twice while he was talking about his five-year goals , and I felt so bad I hadn’t been listening that I did that overly enthusiastic encouragement thing, you know?

Like ‘Oh my gosh, wow! That, um, thing you said was, like, so inspiring that I needed to, like, sit with it for a minute and take it all in! Live, laugh, love, you know?’” I shrugged.

“I guess I was more convincing than I’d hoped. ”

Monica snickered.

I frowned and looked up at Fern. “When the heck did these messages come in, anyway? I didn’t see them.”

Fern shrugged. “Check the time stamps, silly. They were on your lock screen under John’s last text, so… sometime before that? Ohhhh, wait! Is it possible that your John saw them? Because if so…”

I shook my head. “He’d never look at my phone unless…

Ugh .” I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Unless I asked him to shut off my alarm while I was on my Zoom call, which I did. But fuck, just because this dude wants to see me doesn’t mean I want to be seen!

” I whined. “It was supposed to be Netflix Night!”

“Which you postponed,” Fern reminded me.

“So my John and I could go out! ”

“Did you tell your John you wanted to go out with him ?” Monica asked. “Or just that you wanted to go out?”

“I—” I deflated slightly. “I can’t remember. But what in the world would make him think I’d cancel our plans for this random guy?” I brandished my phone.

Fern gave Monica a stern look. “Yeah, Monica, why would he think that?”

“Um. Well .” Monica quickly exchanged her full margarita glass for mine…

which had somehow become empty in the short time I’d been sitting on the sofa.

“That teeny, tiny conclusion I jumped to? It’s, ah…

possible that I told your John about our conversation regarding Other- John.

And I may have, um… saidyouhaddreamyeyes,” she finished in a rush.

“You what?”

“And it’s possible that your John looked a bit dejected and depressed when I suggested things seemed serious with you and Other-John. And, um… I’m kind of wondering if these texts might have confirmed that for him?” She bit her lip. “I think he was jealous.”

I leaned back in my seat and groaned. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Because even if I had been romantically interested in Other-John, my John is… he’s my John. No one will ever be as important to me as he is.”

Fern and Monica did their eyeball-talking schtick again.

“What?” I demanded. “Stop with the looky-looks! What am I missing?”

“Your John’s the most important person to you,” Fern reiterated. “Have you ever told him this?”

“Well, no. But I’ve also never told him the sky was blue. Some things are just… obvious.” I shrugged. “Besides, guys don’t talk to their friends that way. ‘Hey, John, could you bring me a soda while you’re up? And bee-tee-dubs, you’re my favorite person in the universe! K, thanks, bro.’”

“If anyone could get away with that, you could,” Fern muttered .

“Yeah, but I couldn’t.” My cheeks got hotter, and I sucked down more liquid. “If I did, it’d seem like I wanted more than friendship.”

“And you don’t?” Monica exchanged my empty margarita glass for Fern’s, which was still mostly full.

It was funny how Monica’s glasses held less liquid than average glasses, and I was totally gonna ask her about that at some point.