Page 50 of Love Me Tomorrow

“You’re deflecting,” Lizzie counters with ease. “You want her. Say it with me now:I still want Savannah Rose.”

I glance over at her. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re nosy as all hell?”

“My brother does pretty much every day. Gage, too.” She pinches my thigh, just like a sister would. “Oh, c’mon on, at least admit that you’ve totally special-ordered a body-sized pillow so you can pretend that you’re spooning her at night.”

God help me.

I drop her phone back in her lap. “You’re makin’ it sound like I have a goddamn blow-up doll of Savannah in my house.”

My sister-in-law perks up. “Color me intrigued.”

For fuck’s sake. “Idon’thave one, Liz.”

“That’s incredibly unfortunate.”

I roll my eyes, seeking out the ceiling again like it holds the answers to all my problems. “I don’t want to be your favorite twin anymore. Pass the title back to Gage.”

“No can do,” she says, rubbing the curve of her swollen stomach. “You’re stuck with the title until Baby Harvey shows up. It’s already been decided by the powers that be.”

“Does Gage know that you’re referring to yourself in the third person nowadays?”

Instead of answering, Lizzie throws me a satisfied grin. “Good question. How about this one: does Gage know that you’re still in love with Savannah Rose?”

Yup, it’s official.

Time for my sister-in-law to go.

I launch to my feet, ushering her up into a standing position. She looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa as she gathers her bearings. One wrong balance change and she’s going to go crashing to the floor.

She scrabbles for my arm, finding support once she latches onto my bicep. “Are you sending me home?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re fired.” When her eyes pop open wide, I hastily add, “Temporarily. Until the baby comes. When Gage gets to be your favorite again, we’ll welcome you back to Inked with open arms. Even throw you a big party.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Lizzie offers me the sort of grin guaranteed to send small children running, it’s so completely terrifying. Breezily, she murmurs, “Oh, I see.”

I narrow my eyes. “Whatdo you see?”

“Oh, poor, poor Owen. You’re in love and don’t know how to handle it, so you’re lashing out.” She knuckles me in the chest like I’m a total sucker. “Welcome to the club, Harvey. You caught me by surprise, or I would have greeted you with a sign. Probably would have had Gage make it since he’s on a roll already.”

Is it possible for baby brain to take a completely sane person and tip them over the edge? Certainly seems like it.

“I’m not in love with Savannah,” I grind out.

The words aren’t untrue. I’m inlust, I’m inlike—no one said anything about love. I watched my parents throw that word around for years, only for it to ultimately mean nothing. My dad stayed in New Orleans, working for the city’s police department. When she’d had enough of being the wife of a street cop, my mom had Gage and me pack our meager belongings into a single suitcase, then drove us straight to Hackberry like her ten-year marriage didn’t mean a damn thing.

They said the words. They uttered them daily.

When I buried them both within twenty-four hours of each other, I promised myself that I wouldn’t ever useI love youuntil I meant it. The forever kind of mean it.

And while Savannah makes me wonderwhat if?that doesn’t mean that I love her.

It’s just lust. Just like.

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