“Eight.” He sighs, tugging at his hair, which leads me to believe it was as underwhelming as the previous seven.
“What was it this time?” I follow him into the kitchen, where he hands me a plate stacked with sandwiches made of toasted rye bread, salami, prosciutto, the works, and this is exactly why the dating stuff isn’t working out for him. He’s too good for most of this world. Nobody deserves Adam’s sandwiches. Except me, obviously.
“Vacation property. She wanted to know if I had any.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, and Adam looks the same. There are plenty of girls out there that money and fame mean nothing to—we’ve already got three of them—so why is it so difficult for a guy like Adam to find one?
“I need to meet someone who’s never watched hockey,” he grumbles. “Knows nothing about the sport and doesn’t have a single clue who I am. Maybe then I’ll know if they actually like me for me.”
This version of Adam, ready to call it a day, is sad. It’s not the Adam I know. I want him to find the good he’s looking for; I know she’s out there.
“I’m sorry, buddy. Give it some more time. I bet she comes around when you’re least expecting.”
“Hope so.” He checks his Apple Watch. “Jaxon should be here any minute, then we can take off.”
“Jaxon? What? No. He’s coming? C’mon. That guy?”
Adam’s doorbell rings, and he chuckles. “He’s a good guy.”
“He’s annoying,” I counter, following him down the hall as I stuff the rest of my sandwich into my mouth. I’m not sharing.
“Carter’s annoying, and you’re friends with him.” He levels me with a look that tells me to play nice. “I think you’ll like Jaxon if you give him a chance. C’mon. He’s uprooted his whole life and moved to a new country. He doesn’t have anyone here.”
“Fine, but he’s sitting in the back.”
Adam opens the door, and Jaxon grins at us from the porch.
“I call shotgun!” he yells, then promptly dashes to Adam’s truck, and I fucking hate him.
“Did you have to get the biggest one?” Adam grunts as we shove my Christmas tree into the back of his pickup.
“I got the biggest,” Jaxon argues.
I shove him through the pine needles. “Like fuck you did.”
“Biggest tree to match the biggest cock.”
“You’re the biggest dick, that’s for fucking sure.”
Adam sighs. “I should’ve gone with the couples. Then I wouldn’t be feeling like a single dad right now, and I would’ve had my Christmas tree two weeks ago.”
“Yeah, and you’d be missing all the fun,” I say, then clap Jaxon’s hand in a high five.
Okay, so he hasn’t been the worst today, but he hasn’t been the best either. Tolerable. A couple funny jokes here and there. He’s okay. Plus, I know what it’s like to come out here on your own and hope someone will take you into their crew.
Still, by the time we’re wrapping up at lunch, Jaxon doesn’t seem that lonely. He’s managed to get both the hostess and the waitress’s phone numbers without them knowing about each other. He’s taking one for dinner tonight, Adam’s heading to Second Chance to volunteer, and I’m arguing with Jennie via text.
“I could probably get both girls out tonight and you can join us, Andersen,” Jaxon says when we climb into Adam’s truck. “If you need help getting a date.”
“I don’t need help getting a date, you douchewaffle,” I grumble as I shoot off a text.
Me: Can u at least come be a brat at my place?
Sunshine: OMG! It’s like you’re obsessed with me or something.
Me: Accurate. Please? I leave tomorrow n won’t be back til after xmas.
Sunshine: I can’t, ok?? I’m on my period.
Me: Ok, and??
“Did you just call me a douchewaffle? What the fuck even is that?”
I honestly don’t know. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jennie. Her insults are colorful, to say the least, and she’s rubbing off on me. A few days away from her over Christmas will probably do me well.
But it’s not Christmas just yet, so I shoot off another text with ten question marks.
Sunshine: I’M. ON. MY. PERIOD.
I lean between the front seats. “Hey, why would a girl not wanna hang out when she’s on her period? Are they really that grumpy?”
“What’s the nature of the relationship?” Jaxon asks.
My nose scrunches. “Huh?”
“Physical or emotional?”
“Uh, physical.” Right? Maybe emotional too? Ugh, I don’t know. I like eating her pussy, tickling her back while we watch TV, and it’s cool when she tells me things no one else knows. “I don’t know,” I admit on a groan, sinking back in my seat.
Adam’s suspicious, scary gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror.
“Physical,” I quickly clarify. “Just a girl I’m…fucking around with.” I frown. That doesn’t sound right. Jennie means more to me than that.
“There’s your reason,” Jaxon replies. “If she’s on her period, not a whole lot of fucking around you can do.”
“Oh.” I drum my fingers on my knees, then lean between them again, hands on their shoulders. “Does that mean she doesn’t wanna hang out with me if there’s no sex involved?”
Jaxon smiles slowly. “It means she’s giving you an out, dude. She’s telling you now so you don’t come over hoping to get some. Be grateful.”
I guess, but the longer I mull over the words, the more they don’t sit well with me.
That’s probably why hours later, when the tree is up and dinner is on the way, I make my way down to the twenty-first floor.
“Go away!” Jennie yells through the door when I knock.
I knock again, louder.
“I already told you, Emily! I don’t have any fucking wine! Sorry I’m sober! Unless you’ve got a pint of Ben & Jerry’s for me, leave me here to die!”
Huh. I’ve never been more grateful to have six provinces between me and my little sisters.
I try the handle, pleased when the door swings open. The second I step inside, though, I’m considering turning right the fuck back around.
Jennie’s sobs are fierce, hair piled in a mess on top of her head, where it hangs off the edge of the couch. Tissues litter the ground, and an open tube of cookie dough sits on her coffee table.
She throws a popcorn kernel at the TV. “I hate you, you evil…snail! You should’ve never taken him in if you couldn’t take care of him.” She flings her arm out, gesturing at the cartoon fox on the TV. “Look at his sweet face! How could you do this to him? He’s your family!”
“Jesus fuck. You’re riding the hot mess express, eh?”
Jennie shrieks, rolling off the couch and crashing into the coffee table. She sits up, hair spilling out of her bun. She blows a thick wave off her face, illuminating her tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes. “Garrett! Get out! Why are you in here? Who let you in? What are you doing?”
“Watching you cry, apparently. Again.”
She gestures violently at the TV. “The old lady’s leaving him in the forest all by himself! It’s dark and raining, and he doesn’t understand! She’s supposed to love him! You don’t leave someone you love!” She swats at the tears streaming down her face, and I pull her to her feet, wrapping her up, rubbing her back as we sway.
“Shhh. It’s okay. I know.”
“She’s so mean,” Jennie cries softly, wiping her face on my shoulder. She hiccups and pulls back, scrubbing her eyes with her fists. “Tod doesn’t deserve it.”
“No, he doesn’t, you’re right.” I kiss her forehead and pat her ass. “Go put pants on. You can’t ride the elevator in your underwear, and you’re not spending all night in here crying over Disney movies.”
Jennie’s nose is pink, lips swollen, but when the words finally settle, she still manages to look like she could rip my balls off. “I’m on my period.”
“Yeah, you said that. So what?”