He peered around my shoulder. “Who is this?” he asked cautiously.
“I’m Leah, Decker and I used to work together, before he quit. We also used to be fuck buddies, but we aren’t anymore because he’s in love with your cousin. Nice to meet you.” She smiled. It was a beautiful smile, but Leah was a beautiful girl. It easily drew a grin from Bradley. I mean, how could you not return such happiness? I almost smiled myself until I swiftly recalled the whole heart-torn-to-shreds and deep seated guilt I was currently rocking.
“You quit?” Bradley asked, his focus slowly returning to me.
“I did, but not before I fucked everything up.” I pulled a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and held them to my throbbing jaw. “You hit like a pansy, by the way,” I added.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever hit. You should be honored.”
“How’s Andi?” Leah asked, her tone serious.
“Miserable, exhausted, and angry; exactly how one would expect someone with a broken heart to be.” The British lilt mixed in with Bradley’s American twang sounded odd. Not bad, just...odd.
“I told you she would be miserable. You need to fix this, you damn pathetic scrotum scum!” Leah’s anger made me smile.
“So, you guys are just friends?” Bradley asked. I wasn’t sure if he was verifying things because he was curious about Leah, or if he was asking for Andi’s sake.
“We are, though if I have to clean Jack Daniels induced vomit off his bathroom floor one more time, I’m officially kicking him to the curb.”
“This is my apartment in case you forgot, you’ll be the one hitting the pavement,” I grumbled.
Bradley leaned against the counter, watching me with a steady gaze that I knew was trying to find answers that I had tried to bury deep.
“You love Andi?”
My head was pounding so hard I almost winced. My stomach was revolting against the mention of Jack Daniels and vomit, and my chest was hurting so bad I thought I might be having a heart attack.
“I have no idea what love is,” I confessed. “But, if it’s thinking about her the moment I wake up ‘til the moment I fall asleep, then I do. If it’s reading her text messages over and over again like a sappy teenage moron, then yes, I do. If it’s smiling from merely the sound of her voice, then yes, I fucking love her. Shit, I just want to be able to sit by her, hold her, cook her dinner, make her laugh, dance with her on a damn rooftop as the fucking sun sets. I want to wake up with her wrapped in my arms and kiss that beautiful sassy mouth of hers every day for the rest of my life. If that’s love, then I’m fucking diseased with it.”
Bradley and Leah stared at me as if I’d just grown a penis on my forehead. It was entirely possible, after all, I was the world’s biggest dickhead. I’d had my own version of perfection, I’d had love, and I’d lost it.
“Well, sounds like you better take a shower, shave that Izzy Pop beard you’re rocking, and fix this.” I turned to take in the smirk Bradley was sporting. “If you’re going to love my cousin, you damn well better start doing it right, or next time, I will hire someone to beat the shit out of you, and you’ll be wearing a hell of a lot more than frozen peas on a pink cheek.”
I rubbed my aching neck feeling every bit as pathetic as I no doubt looked. I’m sure holding a bag of frozen vegetables to my puke stained, scruffy face, following my girlie tantrum full of declarations of love and rooftop dancing was about as low as I could possibly get.
“Decker Rueben Steele, you’ve been ignoring my calls for three weeks now! I’ve got your favorite tea and the first season of The Bachelorette, so let me in.” Okay, now I was completely and utterly ridiculed.
Leah strolled towards the door while she looked at me from over her shoulder. “Your middle name is Rueben?”
I rolled my eyes. “Uh huh.”
“Ruby,” she murmured.
“Reuben, it’s biblical,” I growled.
Leah opened the door and graced my mom with a big smile. “Season one with Trista?” Leah exclaimed.
My mom gave Leah an awkward smile and me at what-the-hell glare. Then her eyes settled on Bradley. “Bradley?” she squealed. He engulfed her in a big hug, while peering at me with a shit eating grin.
“The Bachelorette?” he mouthed over my mom’s shoulder.
“You came, for Andi,” Mom sighed as she slowly patted Bradley on the cheek in the motherly way she embraced so effortlessly. Even with three big, smelly boys, she always remained the affectionate, cuddly mom that every boy needed.
“Andi’s tough, she doesn’t need me. I came to beat the shit out of your son.”