Page 37 of How to Lose at Love
“Fine.” He sighs, defeated. “You’re right. Do what you want.”
I sit back.
Well.
This is no fun. He’s just going to give up lecturing me that easily?
Jeez.
“Do what I want.” I raise a brow. “By that you mean, keep playing and doing what I do and don’t worry about the other shit?”
“Sure.”
Why do I feel like he’s trying to trick me?
Is this that reverse psychology bullshit?
“Sure? That’s it?”
His shoulder rises and falls. “Sure.”
Eli Cohen smiles, and I see the reason my brother likes him so much; the guy cares a lot, but he also gives no fucks. But he also really gives a shit. But he doesn’t.
It’s a mind fuck, let me tell you.
Downstairs, I hear the doorbell ring.
“Expecting company on a Monday night?” My agent is watching me look toward my bedroom door, which is open.
I don’t hear the sound of either of my younger brothers.
The doorbell rings again.
“Persistent, eh?” Eli says.
“Drake!” I listen for the sound of footsteps. “Drew!”
Nothing.
“Can someone get the damn door?”
Eli yawns and stretches. “Our time is up anyway. I’ll leave you to it.”
I lean forward to hit the end button on the call, but not before adding, “Thanks for your time.”
“Same. We’ll chat soon.”
My agent ends the call, and I shove my chair away from the desk, rolling a few feet before standing.
I stick my head through Drew’s bedroom doorway.
Empty.
Stick my head into Drake’s bedroom.
Empty.
With a loud sigh, I head down the stairs, yanking the front door open without glancing through the window to see who it is.
