Page 85 of Getting Over You

Chapter twenty-eight

I’m not stupid. I know Gigi is going to try with all her might to do something for my birthday, and I will do my best to stop it.

The last thing I need is a birthday celebration.

Everything else, though, I’m starting to like… Love, maybe, if that was a possibility.

I really like spending every day with Gigi.

And that’s fucking terrifying.

I like fucking, too, of course.

But this thing is happening where I don’t want her to leave after. I think she’s noticed, because she doesn’t jump up and start getting dressed right away anymore.

We’ll lay in my bed for a while and she’ll trace her dainty fingers over my tattoos, scoffing when she sees something she’s not fond of—the blooming flower that says mom beneath it, the anchor, the set of gleaming, hungry wolf eyes.

She’ll ask me why on earth I got that, whatever it is, tattooed on me. I tell her the story behind the tattoo—most of the time, that story isn’t a story at all. It’s me telling Gigi I thought that piece looked cool and decided on a whim to have Eddy do the damn thing—and she rolls those beautiful blue eyes after.

Every time. I’ve started telling her there isn’t a story behind tattoos that have stories just so she’ll roll her eyes at me.

And not try to prod for info.

The more information I give her, the more she’ll love me, and the harder it will be for her when our time together ends.

I’m an asshole, but I don’t want to obliterate her heart. So, I’m treading carefully.

“Hey, tiger,” Belinda croons, walking into the back where I’m scraping at dishes—unfortunately headphone-less today. She runs her finger along the back of my neck, and I step away from her to put some distance between us. Ever since she’s been on the college-aged hunt, it’s like she got sights set onme.

Is she jealous of Gigi?

What a nutjob.

“Earth to Cadey-Wadey,” Belinda says, pulling me from my thoughts as she waves a hand in front of my face. “Did you hear what I said? What’s got you so lost in thought? Am I distracting you?”

“I didn’t hear a word.”

“I said that you’re coming over for dinner tomorrow.”

My eyebrows knit. “I’mwhat?”

“I’ve cleared it with my daughter. She’s excited for us to get to know each other. She recommended we spend time together.”

Yeah, right. Like Gigi would be jumping at the prospect of us and Belinda talking over a meal.

“She did?”

Belinda nods. “All you have to do is show up. Tomorrow, seven o’clock.”

My jaw ticks. I don’t like being told what to do.

I go to rebut, but Belinda wanders off before I can. As soon as possible, I meet Gigi in the hallway between the kitchen and dining room. Her hands are on her hips, those lips a mix of pouty and pissed.

“Why in the hell,” she sneers, “did you ask Belinda to have you over for dinner to get to know her?”

My eyes widen. “Ididn’t. OfcourseI didn’t. She told me it was your idea.”

Gigi scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Okay. Well, what do we do now?”

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