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Anna’s stage voice drifts through my fog, but I don’t respond to it. I can’t. I’m a goddamn mess.
I tried being the old me. Crashed and burned. Couldn’t even keep up the pretense of Happy-Go-Lucky Gray for more than five minutes with that chick at the party before I fled. Can’t get my mind focused on football. Can’t do anything but inwardly bleed.
I keep replaying every word Ivy uttered when she demolished my heart, keep visualizing that evil-as-fuck picture of her dancing with another guy.
“Maybe he’s coming down with something,” Drew answers before giving my foot a kick under the table. “You feeling all right, Gray-Gray?”
“Yeah,” I get out, because he won’t stop if I don’t respond. “Great.”
It was a mistake coming to Drew and Anna’s house for dinner. It is freezing cold and raining out, not the best night for driving. But I needed the distraction their happy chatter could bring. Now I just want to leave without any more questions being thrown my way.
“Well, it can’t be the food,” Anna says, getting up to clear her and Drew’s empty plates before taking my full one. “My lasagna is killer.”
She’s not lying. Anna doesn’t make the heavy American version of lasagna, but a masterpiece of thin, delicate noodles between layers of béchamel and Italian sausage. She gave me the recipe, and I’m never going back to the old way. It’s a shame I can’t stomach one bite tonight.
“So I’m guessing no humble pie for dessert, huh, babe?” Drew gives Anna’s ass a playful swat.
“If you ever want pie again,” Anna warns, “you’ll eat those words, bud.”
Drew hauls her onto his lap where she happily settles in. “Now, Jones, you and I both know that prohibiting me from eating pie hurts you more—”
Anna slaps a hand over his mouth before he can finish. But they’re both grinning at each other.
Fuck me. Did I really think it would be a good idea to hang out with Mr. and Mrs. Perpetually in Love? Worse, they both notice my scowl.
Drew’s brow lifts, and Anna simply peers at me before reaching across the table to rest her small hand on my arm. “What’s going on, Gray?”
It’s her touch, feminine and light and caring, so similar to Ivy’s, that does me in.
I exhale with a shaking breath. “Ivy dumped me.”
“Dumped you?” Anna frowns. “Were you two going out?”
“No,” I mutter. “As a friend. She thinks we’ve been spending too much time together. She wants to date...people.”
The words feel like broken glass against my throat. I tell them the rest of my disastrous argument with Ivy in short, terse sentences.
When I’m finished, my friends are silent. Probably pitying me. Then Anna gets up and starts messing with her beloved espresso machine—the very one I’d taken care of when she and Drew were on the outs. I still kind of mourn giving it back to her.
Deftly she makes an espresso, adding a spoonful of sugar, then handing me the cup. “Drink it down like a good boy, and you’ll feel better.”
Doubtful, but I take a sip anyway. Dark, sweet coffee hits my system like a welcome slap. Weirdly, it does make me feel better. Not by much, but enough. And I realize that this is why I’m here. Being in Drew’s familiar kitchen, talking to him and Anna, helps.
Drew braces his arms on the table. “I think we’re going to need a bit more explanation. You’re both obviously into each other—”
“Oh, obviously,” I sneer. “Seeing how she kicked me to the curb.”
“Please.” Drew waves a hand. “I’ve seen you two together. You’re like...”
“Drew and I are,” Anna supplies with a grin.
“What? Going at it like horny bunnies? I wish.” I truly do. Fuck, how I do.
“Baby steps, Gray-Gray.” Drew starts tapping his thumb against the table—thinking. I hate when he does that. “So you kissed Ivy, and she freaked. Did it happen right after you kissed her? Must have been some shitty kiss.”
“Fuck you,” I say without heat, because I know Drew is messing with me. I’d have said the same to him.
I haven’t told them about the things we did before I kissed her. It’s too personal.
