I did that a lot around Lexi.
Laugh, I mean.
I couldn’t name anyone who made me laugh right out loud more than she did.
Christ, we’d had a great weekend.
I was so relieved when she’d agreed to stay another day.
And night.
No part of me had wanted her to leave.
Just like now.
Except now, there was a problem.
Lexi wanted to leave.
She wanted to dissolve everything between us and wash her pink manicured fingertips of everything we’d done.
And pretend it had never happened.
Not that I’d expected her to stay married to me on a whim.
But to be honest, a little brooding would have been appreciated.
A little, “Oh, Trey, I’ve loved you forever, and I want nothing more than to be your wife until the end of time.”
Ah, Christ.
I’d been reading too many of Gigi’s romance books.
It was official—I’d turned into a chick.
Just like Beau had warned me.
He’d caught me reading one of Gigi’s romance novels, and ripped it out of my hands.
It happened when he’d arrived back from Christmas vacation.
I had the keys to their place because we were babysitting their two French bulldogs.
Gigi was worried they might miss being at home and wanted to make sure we had the option.
“We” meaning me, my mom, and my brother.
They took turns looking after me after my accident.
Which wasn’t an accident at all.
It was Ivan Rozovsky being the complete, and total douche that he was.
He’d served up a dirty check from behind—that sent me headfirst into the boards—and also directly to the ICU.
For days.
I did wake up, though.