“He sure as shit did.” I turned my phone for Shepley to see. “Brazil texted me last night and ratted his ass out.”
Shepley sighed and shook his head. “He had to know that would get back to you. I mean . . . how could it not? Those guys are bigger gossips than the girls.”
I stopped, seeing a couch that caught my eye. “I bet that’s why he did it. Hoping it would get back to me.”
Shepley nodded. “Let’s face it. The old you would have gone into a jealous rage and scared her right into Parker’s arms.”
“Bastard,” I said as a salesman approached.
“Good morning, gentleman. Can I help you find something in particular?”
Shepley threw himself onto the couch, and then bounced a few times before nodding his head. “I approve.”
“Yeah. I’ll take this one,” I said.
“You’ll take it?” he said, a little surprised.
“Yeah,” I said, a little surprised myself at his reaction. “Do you deliver?”
“Yes, sir, we do. Would you like to know the price?”
“It says right here, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So, I’ll take it. Where do I pay?”
“Right this way, sir.”
The salesman tried unsuccessfully to talk me into some more items that matched the couch, but I had a few more things to buy that day.
Shepley gave them our address, and the salesman thanked me for being the easiest sale of the year.
“Where are we going now?” he asked, trying to keep pace with me to the Charger.
“Calvin’s.”
“You getting new ink?”
“Yep.”
Shepley watched me, wary. “What are you doing, Trav?”
“What I always said I would do if I met the right girl.”
Shepley stepped in front of the passenger door. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Don’t you think you should discuss it with Abby first . . . you know, so she doesn’t freak out?”
I frowned. “She might say no.”
“It’s better she says no than you do it and she runs out of the apartment because you scared her off. Things have been going good between you two. Why don’t you just let it ride for a while?”
I cupped my hands on Shepley’s shoulders. “That doesn’t sound like me at all,” I said, and then moved him aside.
Shepley jogged around the front of the Charger, and then slid into the driver’s seat. “I’m still taking the official position that this is a bad idea.”
“Noted.”
“Then where?”
“Steiner’s.”
“The jewelry store?”
“Yep.”
“Why, Travis?” Shepley said, his voice more stern than before.
“You’ll see.”
He shook his head. “Are you trying to run her off?”
“It’s going to happen, Shep. I just want to have it. For when the time is right.”
“No time anytime soon is right. I am so in love with America that it drives me crazy sometimes, but we’re not old enough for that shit, yet, Travis. And . . . what if she says no?”
My teeth clenched at the thought. “I won’t ask her until I know she’s ready.”
Shepley’s mouth pulled to the side. “Just when I think you can’t get any more insane, you do something else to remind me that you are far beyond bat shit crazy.”
“Wait until you see the rock I’m getting.”
Shepley craned his neck slowly in my direction. “You’ve already been over there shopping, haven’t you?”
I smiled.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Daddy’s Home
FRIDAY. THE DAY OF THE DATE PARTY, THREE DAYS after Abby smiled about the new couch and then minutes later turned to whiskey over my tats.
The girls were gone doing what girls do on the day of date parties, and I was sitting in front of the apartment, on the steps, waiting for Toto to take a dump.
For reasons I couldn’t pinpoint, my nerves were shot. I’d already taken a couple swigs of whiskey to try to settle my ass down, but it was no use.
I stared at my wrist, hoping whatever ominous feeling I had was just a false alarm. As I started to tell Toto to hurry up because it was fucking cold outside, he hunched over and did his business.
“It’s about time, little man!” I said, scooping him up and walking inside.
“Just called the florist. Well, florists. The first one didn’t have enough,” Shepley said.
I smiled. “The girls are going to shit. Did you make sure they would deliver before they get home?”
“Yeah.”
“What if they come home early?”
“They’ll be here in plenty of time.”
I nodded.
“Hey,” Shepley said with a half smile. “You nervous about tonight?”
“No,” I said, frowning.
“You are, too, you *! You’re nervous about date night!”
“Don’t be a dick,” I said, retreating to my room.
My black shirt was already pressed and waiting on its hanger. It wasn’t anything special—one of two button-down shirts that I owned.