Page 70 of Interference

“And I wasn’t involved with him then, just like I’m not involved with him now.”

“Then why the fuck is he still living in our house?” Simon snapped. “And why the fuck is he here?”

“Because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go right now,” I hissed. “I’m not going to ditch someone on a holiday just because you’ve got a throbbing jealous bone.”

“Someone you moved into our house without explaining what the fuck is—”

“I’ve explained it a hundred times!” I threw up my hands. “What do you want me to do? Provide notarized documentation or something?” I flailed sharply toward the house. “What do you want me to do, Simon? Wyatt needed a place to go. We have three unoccupied bedrooms.” I folded my arms and cocked my head. “Or should I have just told him, sorry, you’re stuck up Shit Creek because my boyfriend is too insecure for me to help you?”

Simon glared at me for a long moment. Then he swore under his breath, snatched up two cases of Coke, and stalked off.

I exhaled, picked up the other two cases—one Sprite, one Dr Pepper—and pushed the button to shut the hatch. Then I followed Simon up the driveway toward the house.

Admittedly, I felt guilty. As if I should’ve done more to soothe his feelings. And like I was the worst boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—in the world for indulging in any attraction at all toward Wyatt. It felt wrong to be into the guy Simon was accusing me of being into.

It also felt wrong to be like this with Simon. Sniping. Arguing. Everything we’d been in the beginning was such a distant memory, it didn’t feel real anymore. It didn’t make sense alongside this new reality where we couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

Wyatt had said something yesterday about the breakup possibly being the best thing for us. I still thought he was right, but I didn’t think we were going to be as friendly as his brother and ex-wife apparently were. Not without some divine intervention.

God. What happened to us?

And how the fuck was I going to stay sane, pretending we were still okay—still happily together—for the rest of the season?

I suppressed a groan. The soda cases I was carrying suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, and the thought of socializing with even one more person today made me want to lie down and pass out.

But we had to keep up appearances. The whole team was here. No one could know Simon and I had even had a normal argument like normal couples did. They sure as shit couldn’t know we’d broken up.

So I adjusted my grip on the soda cases, plastered on an everything-is-okay-face, and continued into the house.

When everyone sat down for dinner, there really was no escape. Simon and I were expected to be joined at the hip for sit-down meals, and I couldn’t exactly have Wyatt sit elsewhere. So as we all sat down at one of two huge tables, I was sandwiched uncomfortably between Simon and Wyatt.

On the bright side, at least that meant I was a buffer between Lily and Simon. He would never be mean to an animal, but if she bumped him or something, he’d undoubtedly get annoyed at the reminder of her handler’s existence. As it was, she lay beneath Wyatt’s chair and partway under mine, her back against my foot. Just like when we’d had lunch at that café yesterday, I was relieved she was touching me. That way I didn’t forget she was there and accidentally kick her or scoot my chair into her.

As everyone dug in, Wyatt pulled a small piece of turkey off his plate and reached under his chair to offer it to Lily.

Across from us, Chip huffed and gestured at Wyatt as he said to his wife, “See? He feeds his dog at the table?”

Kelsey rolled her eyes and elbowed him. “Yes, but she’s a working dog who deserves a reward.”

Chip scoffed. “Barney deserves to be rewarded.”

“Not with my mother’s chicken parmesan.”

“No one deserves to be rewarded with that,” Chip muttered, jabbing at some stuffing on his plate.

Kelsey just elbowed him again and continued eating.

Chip looked at me. “What do your house lions think of the dog? Or do they just roar and terrify her?”

I laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re not still afraid of them, are you?”

“They’re just kitties,” Kelsey said with a smirk.

“The hell they are.” Chip pointed at me and Simon with his fork. “Kitties don’t make that much noise when they run through the house.”

“Clearly you haven’t heard our Oriental Shorthairs,” Wilkinson chimed in. “They’re only like eight pounds, but they sound like a herd of horses.” He flashed Chip a toothy grin. “But you’re scared of them, too, so…”

“Oh, fuck you, Wilks.” Chip tossed a pea at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “I’m not scared of cats. I just can’t imagine sleeping in a house with animals that could smother me during the night.”

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