Page 29 of Simply You & Me

"MOM!"

I smile at her twinkly laughter, enjoying an easy Sunday morning with my daughter. "You're home early," I muse as she wiggles around beside me.

Finally, in a seated position, she gives me a half-hearted glare that looks so damn cute with her small smile. "It's like 10:30!"

"What?" I gasp. My attempt at clawing my way out from beneath my covers makes Rory laugh again. Some of the guilt and panic over sleeping in so late eases at her easy joy.

"Gabby and I got home a few minutes ago. She told me to tell you she has coffee and muscle."

"I—what?!"

Gabby chooses that moment to waltz herself into my bedroom. Dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt with her pink hair in a bun, she looks ready to tackle the day. "What's taking so long in here?!" she accuses, cocking her hip with an attitude I hope like hell doesn't brush off on Rory.

"Move before you hurt yourself!" A deep voice from my living room has me shooting out of bed in one uncoordinated movement.

"Gabby!" I hiss. "Is that Zach?!"

"OW!" another manly voice shouts.

Gabby wipes the cringe from her face and gives me a big grin. "And Wyatt. Julian and Tate, too!"

"And why are they here on a Sunday morning?" I grit through my teeth, trying like hell to remember if anything weird is lying around out there.

"It's basically afternoon. Since when do you sleep this late, by the way? I texted you like an hour ago." Gabby picks at her nails like she isn't crossing boundaries right now. Rory snorts and winces, mumbling about needing to pee before rushing into my bathroom.

"Gabby, for real?" Swallowing my annoyance, I ask, "What are they doing here?"

"Oh!" My pink-haired friend bounces on her toes. "They brought the most adorable bookshelves to build for you!"

"Why?" I ask again, confusion and frustration weighing down the light tone I had intended to use. Gabby means well. She really does, but she doesn't understand boundaries sometimes. Rylee and I are used to her making herself at home in our space, but sometimes it's rough on my nerves.

Gabby pouts and frowns at me. "You've had your piles of books on the floor for far too long, babe. Let the sexy men build you a nice bookshelf while we watch and drink our coffees."

Well... when she says it like that...

A short ten minutes later, with brushed hair and teeth, I’m dressed in cozy shorts and my dad’s old sweatshirt.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Julian greets loudly as I pad my way into the living room.

Gabby hands me my coffee and coffee cake when I slump beside her on the couch. “Good morning, everyone,” I murmur, a little embarrassed, and hide my face behind my straw.

Rory sits with Wyatt on the floor, a large as hell directions sheet lying in front of them. They’re talking quietly and pointing at different things and making Tate and Zach organize all the pieces.

“That’s a cool sweatshirt, Lynnie,” Tate says, smiling softly at me and greeting me with a kiss, having snuck away from the building team.

I blush. “Thank you. It was my dad’s,” I whisper, running a finger down the battered sleeve.

“Did he graduate from USC?” Tate’s head tilts, his curiosity making my tummy flutter. I feel like he really wants to know me. I nod. “Do you plan on going there too someday?”

It’s too early for hard questions. Especially when all eyes are on me. I shrug, trying to play my disappointment off like it doesn’t matter. “No. My dream was New York. Fashion degree. Expensive tiny apartment.”

I keep it short and simple, hoping they’ll just leave it at that. I really don’t want to talk about lost dreams with Rory in the room. She may not quite understand or even be listening to me as she moves the bookshelf pieces around, but I never want her to feel blamed for the future that I couldn’t have. It’s nobody's fault besides the man that killed our parents.

Tate frowns. I internally curse, knowing he’s not going to let it go. “Was?”

I nod, biting my lip, uncertain what to say right now. Gabby saves me, kicking her foot into Tate’s hip and lifting a brow, her gaze darting to Rory.

Tate pales slightly, looking from my kid to me. Before he can apologize, I smile and shake my head before saying, “I think they need your help.”

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