Page 209 of The Winslow Brothers

She shakes her head and then startles, her head jerking toward me. “Is that it?”

“What do you mean? To the apartment?”

“Yes. To the apartment. That’s it?”

I shrug. “Yeah.”

“There’s…there’s only one bedroom in this apartment?”

I raise my eyebrows, and she immediately shakes her head. A long-winded babble is coming, I can feel it.

“How is that possible? H-how? I googled your building, and this building doesn’t look like the kind of building that has apartments with only one bedroom in it.”

“I didn’t know that was discernible from the outside.”

“Well, it’s not! Obviously! Because here I am in a building that shouldn’t have any one-bedroom apartments, in a one-bedroom apartment. Your house in Vegas has multiple bedrooms, Flynn. Why doesn’t this have multiple bedrooms?”

“Because this isn’t Vegas. This is New York. And I’ve only ever been able to sleep in one bed at a time.”

“You’re not funny right now. This isn’t funny. Where am I supposed to sleep?”

I glance to the bed and back at her, and her eyes spin like flying UFOs. “In the bed with you?Every night?”

“Only the nights you want to be in a bed.”

“This isn’t funny, Flynn!”

“Listen, Dais, it is what it is. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we haven’t slept in a bed together before.”

“We didn’tsleepin that bed at all, Flynn.”

No, we definitely didn’t sleep, and it was fucking glorious.

I grin, and she practically chokes on her own saliva.

“Come on,” I tell her, leaving the room. “Let’s go. You can worry about the bed later.”

“What? Go? Where are we going?”

I don’t answer. No. I don’tdareanswer.

Daisy

Flynn pulls to a stop in front of a gorgeous Uptown brownstone that makes me believe in the movie version of New York. The trees are large and mature, and the street is calm. I can practically picture Tom Hanks asking Meg Ryan what would have happened with them if they hadn’t been enemies from the start.

I don’t know why we’re here, though, and the anticipation has me on edge.Does Flynn have another house here? Perhaps with more than one bedroom?

I nearly laugh aloud at myself, but Flynn opening my door and holding out a hand to help me climb out of his Range Rover seems to startle it right out of me.

“Where are we?”

He doesn’t answer, instead guiding me across the sidewalk and up the steps to ring the doorbell. Youdon’tring the doorbell at your own house. “Uh…” I look around in confusion. “Are we at someone’s house?”

“Yeah,” he answers matter-of-factly. “My sister Winnie’s.”

“What?!” I question, but he’s already added knocking to his arrival alert system, apparently unsatisfied with the speed of response from the bell. “Flynn. This is your family’s house?”

He nods, completely at ease with the insane situation. “It’s family dinner night.”

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