Page 36 of Sighs By the Sea

Greg is laughing as Tommy gets up. “You want some coffee first?”

I hold up my hand. “No. You two have been—”

“A godsend?” Tommy jokingly interrupts.

But Greg is more serious. “We’re family, Gray. This is what a real family does. God, I hate that I even have to say that. Your family did a number on you guys. It’s messed up.” With a pat on the shoulder, I feel myself relax a little more.

I smile, trying to break some of the emotions that are still swirling around in my gut. “Are we family? I mean, Sam and you definitely aren’t, but even Tommy. Where’s the ring?”

“Dude, I’m working on it. Tilly’s—”

“A stubborn ass?” I finish, and all three of us laugh.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Tommy looks at the ground, some sadness clouding his eyes. He takes a deep breath and smiles. “Go shower, man. We’re gonna take off. Call us tomorrow and let us know how it goes with your cop. If you need ideas for handcuffs, Tilly and I—”

Both Greg and I shout, "Don't!" at the same time.

Tommy is grinning like a fool as he shrugs. "Okay, but trust me, you're missing out." I don't know if I should be terrified or impressed. My man brain wants to applaud Tommy for his bedroom adventures, but my cousin brain wants to slap him upside the head.

I decide to split the difference with a deadpan joke. "Trust me, I've probably done it, and I don't use safe words."

But Greg leans forward with such a serious look on his face that I know my attempt at humor went over both their heads. "Like chains?"

I nod with a sly grin. It's not in the least bit true. People like to think that because I'm a bit of a grouch, it means I'm some sort of animal in the bedroom. I can be. But there's a tender intensity that I chase much more often. One you can only get with a deep connection. Like the one Maggie and I have. At even the thought of how amazing we could be together physically, my slacks are growing tighter. Not a great situation to be in when you're in a room full of men you aren't attracted to.

"Woah, nice." Tommy holds his fist out, and I bump it. He never needs to know I'm pulling his leg. That's what he gets for being too descriptive about sex with my cousin.

"Call us, for real." Greg and Tommy are already getting up to leave by the time I promise to do just that.

As I head to the bathroom, I hear the front door close just before I turn on the water. Despite my reservations when the men showed up, I am eternally grateful for Tilly’s idea to send them. Though she would hate it if she knew, Tilly is becoming the head of our family, much like Tia had been. Though I know it is in a much better and more loving way. I step into the hot water, a smile on my face. I have a plan, and maybe George will get to come home soon.

Maggie

At my desk, I'm scrolling through mug shots on my computer. A police sketch of a rapist sits on the corner. The computer has already run an analysis and found no matches, but I like to be hands-on. Sometimes, I can catch a similarity that the computer misses. It's been four days since the blow-up at my house with Grayson, and saying I've been in a terrible mood would be an understatement. But mundane, repetitive work is safe. Simple, even. So I'll click through thousands of mug shots. Over and over and over again.

Harry comes up to my desk, a bag in hand.

"What now, Detective?" I ask. If he's bringing me treats, something's afoot.

He eyes me like I'm a venomous snake about to strike. Accurate in my current state of irritation. "Just gauging your mood today, Miss Margaret. How are we feeling?"

I purse my lips and click for the next picture. Harry chuckles and leans against my desk. "So not great. Got it."

"What do you want? I see you brought bribery." Eyeing his bag suspiciously, I click again. Donuts or not, I will not be dressed as a sex worker on a corner again.

Harry holds up the bag and points to it. "Oh, this? Not from me, my love."

That grabs my attention. I swivel in my seat and look at the package. "Maggie" is written in fancy handwriting on the front. Only one person in the world calls me that, though I am trying to slowly integrate it into my life more. Harry has flat-out refused, saying I will always be his little Margaret. Old dog, new tricks, and all, I'll give him a pass.

"He's waiting at the front," Harry adds. My heart does a small flutter before I shut it down. Grayson Cardenas is a victim, not a love interest, despite what my body is telling me. Since the fight, I've come to a few realizations.

On day one, I realized that cleaning my apartment while cursing his sexy body did not help me forget about him at all. It made me want to show off the newly cleaned space and maybe even get tips on how to organize my pantry better.

On day two, I tried food to get him off my mind. I'm out $85, and the steak wasn't even that good. The first thing I wanted to do after mowing it down was text him and say $15 arroz con pollo beats French seared steak every time.

On day three, I went for the tried and true method of drinking, only to figure out that it is not, in fact, tried and true because all it did was make me sad and hungover for day four.

Today is day four, and so far, it's sucked. But during all the suackage, I found myself understanding something very simple: arguing with him was…hot. It's another item that I should put on the list of things I need to talk to a therapist about.

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