“No,” I laugh, but quickly sober at the memory of my ex. The way he attacked Whimsy and me in Paris just this past year. “If I should’ve killed anyone it should’ve been him,” I whisper.
I know Fisher will understand and know I’m not talking about my brother.
“I’ve never felt so helpless as I did when your brother told me what happened. I wanted to hunt down that piece of shit myself.”
“I felt so stupid.” I tug on the hem of my old fraying t-shirt I’ve had since college.
“You’re not stupid for trusting your boyfriend.”
The way he saysboyfriendI can tell it pains him. He says it like he tastes something bad and wants to spit it out.
Looking out the window, I mutter, “I knew he wasn’t the best guy.”He wasn’t you, I keep to myself.
As far as I know he scurried back to his place in Manhattan and I haven’t heard from him since. I was worried for a while that he might try to weasel his way back into my life, but he disappeared entirely.
The rest of the ride passes in silence and thankfully when we arrive back at my building my brother and Whimsy are already there. I’m grateful to have the buffer of their presence.
Hopping out of the truck, I meet Whimsy around the front, and she passes me a coffee before pulling me into a hug and asking in a hushed whisper, “How’s married life?”
I nearly choke on my own tongue. “Not like married life at all.”
She sips her coffee, humor shining in her blue eyes. “So, you’re not getting laid?”
My mind goes back to the night in Vegas. “No, definitely not.”
She points a manicured finger at me. “You paused.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Her smile grows and she wiggles her pointed finger. “You definitely did.”
“I haven’t slept with him since we’ve been here.”
Her mouth drops open. “But Vegas?”
I look around, finding that my brother and Fisher are distracted at the back of the truck. It sounds like they’re discussing the best way to get the couch up to my place.
“There’s a service elevator around the corner,” I holler. “That’ll be your best bet.”
Fisher says something about moving the truck and Elias agrees. With the two of them occupied, I tug on Whimsy’s hand, so she’ll follow me into the lobby of the building. We might as well head up.
“Ebba,” she pleads. “What about Vegas?”
I groan as we wait for the elevator to arrive. “Yeah, we hooked up.”
“I knew it!”
I glower at her. “Can you scream it any louder?”
“Sorry.” Her cheeks pinken.
“He’s slept on the couch the past two nights, though. I can’t go there with him again. Sex makes things complicated.”
“Is it good sex?”
I cover my face with my hands and mumble, “The best.”
Stepping onto the elevator, I push the button for my floor while Whimsy stirs her coffee. Her nose is scrunched, and I know it’s her thinking face, so I’m not surprised when she says, “What’s the problem with just getting laid?”