Page 15

He says it’s a reminder of “the best day of my life.” The one where he knew there was no going back.

He was going to marry this woman or die single.

Luckily, it didn’t come to the dying single part.

Hannah didn’t even let him get the full question out before she tackled him into the sand and peppered his face with kisses.

He’s got those pictures everywhere, too.

His apartment is just a Hannah shrine at this point.

When I’m finally done with my half of the list, I walk into the bathroom and realize there are two doors, and my curiosity gets the better of me. Pulling open the door opposite ohe one I just came through, I’m met with a shrill “Sheesh Tatum! What the hell?”

This is a joke, right? Not only do I have to be in the same house as her for a week, but I have to share a bathroom with her, too?

One semi-decent car ride doesn’t all of a sudden make us besties, I still can’t stand the woman.

Which is why my plan makes sense. Slamming her door, I lock it before hopping in the shower.

It’s been a long day, and my annoyance just shot up tenfold.

Unlocking her side when I’m done, I climb into bed.

My thoughts race as I run through the mental checklist of things Dr. Williams told me to do.

“First, son, you need to find someone you can trust with your mess. Most likely, this is someone you haven't met yet.” My thoughts were, ‘Open up to a stranger? Yeah right.’ Apparently, that's common because he immediately follow ed with, “I know, but sometimes you feel like you have to be a certain way around people you know. Keep up the persona you’ve built. For someone new, they don’t know you yet. You can be whoever you want.”

Vulnerable Abby might as well be a new person, right?

I’ve never seen her cry, yet in the past few days, I’ve seen it twice.

She’s always quick to the draw with her cutting words, yet she’s been quiet and introspective most of the time.

We wouldn’t be Tate and Abby if we didn’t claw at each other every chance we got, though, the bickering is still there.

There’s just no heat behind it on her part.

It’s like she’s just too tired to fight.

I don’t even want to think about why that bothers me.

I repeat the affirmations Dr. Williams gave me until I slowly drift to sleep; my last coherent thought is a pair of light brown eyes staring daggers in my direction.

I wake up to the smell of coffee brewing, which is odd because Abby, like Hannah, only drinks iced coffee.

When I get to the kitchen, I discover she left to get her own, but she knows I drink hot coffee, so she made some and left it in the pot.

I chalked it up to a metaphorical olive branch.

Our peaceful truce lasted all of about five minutes when she tried to turn the fireplace on before she opened the vent.

It was forty-three degrees when we got here last night; for us Floridians, that might as well be in the negatives.

My brother and Hannah are six hours out, meaning we have that amount of time until everything needs to be done and in place.

My half-bubble of peace is popped as the front door swings open and the Peanut Gallery walks in.

Monroe looks like a lumberjack in a red and black flannel shirt and furry hat.

Reed’s lips are pulled into such a scowl I think they might be stuck that way, h is exasperated look tells me he wants to smack the former upside the head.

Andrews and Wilson file in behind them. But it's my roommate who catches me off guard.

“The hell are you doing here?” I growl, which shocks all of us. Myself mostly.

“Reed invited me. Figured I’d tag along.

Keep the boys in line.” He smiles, then turns to Abby.

“Hey, Knight.” She doesn’t say anything, which has his head tilting to the side, eyes assessing her body language.

“You okay? Do I need to kick Tatum’s ass?

Was he mean to you?” She stiffens a bit before Reed slings an arm around her shoulder, and she relaxes into him.

The possessiveness I feel isn’t normal. The fact that I know how perfectly she fits under my arm has me wanting to pull her out of his embrace.

I hate it. It also doesn’t make any sense, because I don’t want her.

“No, much to my surprise, he’s been a perfect gentleman.” The entire room breaks out in laughter, but her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a soft smile. One that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, one that looks just like the self-deprecating one she gave me the other night. One that says “thank you.”

“Okay, boys, glad we have more hands to get things done. Let’s get the rest of these decorations up.” She claps her hands in front of her, trying her hardest to fake her enthusiasm. It may fool them, but it doesn’t fool me.

She puts her hand on Reed’s stomach, pushing off slightly before giving him a blindingly fake smile.

I watch as she saunters over to the banner I was too stubborn to help her with last night.

“Wanna help me hang this, captain?” Her eyes hold Reed's for a second before they meet mine, and she smirks.

My feet move before my brain can catch up. “Give me that,” I grunt as I snatch the long, pink, flimsy piece of fabric out of her hands. Her laugh is music to my ears. She may have given them a fake smile, but this laugh was real, and it was just for me.

“Thanks, Sunshine.” She winks and walks away. Abby - 1, Tatum - 0.