Page 83 of Hooked On Them

“What do you mean?”

“In all of this.” I gestured vaguely. “You’ve got Carter, who’s all in, no hesitation. You’ve got Dominic, who’s finally stepping up. And me? I’m what? The guy who fills in the gaps? The helper? The placeholder?” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I don’t blame you. I just don’t know where that leaves me.”

She was quiet for a second, and when I finally glanced at her, she was watching me like she saw every thought I was trying to hide. “You think that’s all you are to me?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have one.

She reached for my hand. “You’re not a placeholder, Miles. I don’t know exactly where this is heading. But I do know I want you there, wherever ‘there’ turns out to be.”

I looked at her skeptically. “And if Dominic decides he doesn’t want Carter and me in the picture?” Because that’s really what it boiled down to; he was the father of her baby.

She rolled her eyes. “Dominic doesn’t get to decide; I do. It’s my life, and yeah, it’s unconventional, but I’ve seen it work. Paige and her guys are happy. We just have to find our rhythm now and be honest with each other. And that includes admitting this isn’t fake anymore.”

She squeezed my hand, then stood up with a spark in her eyes. “Which reminds me!” She darted over to grab the paper bag she’d left by the door. “I brought sugar cookies to decorate. Consider it our first official date activity.”

“Sugar cookies?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden change of topic. “That’s your grand romance plan?”

“Hey.” She pointed a finger at me, trying to look stern but failing. “Don’t knock the Christmas magic of frosting therapy.”

As she pulled out containers of premade cookies and various frostings, I watched her. This woman who’d crashed into my life and upended everything. Who remembered the little things. Who wasn’t making empty promises.

I grabbed a tube of green icing. “All right, Hastings, prepare to be amazed by my cookie decorating skills.”

Her laugh filled my apartment, making it feel, for the first time in a long time, like a home.

Chapter27

Entourage? Lovers? Support System?

Nora

I’d never been more convinced that pregnancy hormones caused an advanced form of temporary emotional chaos than I was at this exact moment, wedged in the back seat of an SUV between two professional hockey players while Carter charmed our driver from the front passenger seat.

“And that’s how I ended up with a pet llama named Tina for exactly six days,” Carter concluded his story, causing the driver to burst into laughter as we pulled into my father’s driveway in Corona del Mar.

The familiar three-story beachfront house loomed ahead, looking far more intimidating than it had during my entire childhood. My stomach knotted as the SUV slowed to a stop in the circular driveway lined with meticulously pruned shrubs and flowers.

This was, without question, the worst idea I’d ever had, and I once wore white jeans to a paint-and-sip night.

I glanced between them—these men looking like overgrown kids being dropped off at camp—and a wave of panic crashed over me. What the hell was I thinking bringing them home? To my father’s house? For Christmas?

I’d never brought anyone home, and now I was bringing home three men?

It was last minute and impulsive, but when I’d found out that none of them were spending the holidays with family, I couldn’t leave them behind.

Dominic let out a low whistle. “No wonder you bitch about the snow. This place makes New York look like a punishment.” His eyes lingered on the front door like he was preparing to be attacked. “The weather alone might be worth a trade, honestly.”

“I know, right?” I took in the blue, cloudless sky and the queen palms moving softly in the breeze. It was mid-sixties, sunny, and perfect while the rest of the country was bundled in parkas with tears freezing on their cheeks.

Miles stiffened beside me, his hand finding mine in a gesture that was both protective and uncertain. His fingers threaded through mine, gentle where the rest of him was all quiet tension. “Let’s not talk about being traded.” The words came out low, with an edge I rarely heard from him.

I felt the slight pressure of his thumb running across my knuckles, a tiny, unconscious movement that said more than his words did. After last night, I finally understood how much he was holding back.

“Nothing beats New York, though.” That wasn’t a total lie. The city was starting to grow on me.

After months of bundling up in layers that made me resemble a walking marshmallow and perfecting the art of subway surfing without touching any surfaces, I’d found a bizarre comfort in its chaos. The way the skyline lit up at night, the twenty-four-hour restaurants that knew my order, and even the questionable smells wafting from random sidewalk grates had become familiar. Some would probably call that Stockholm syndrome, but I preferred to think of it as adaptability.

The driver popped the trunk, and we all got out, Carter practically teleporting from the front seat. “I’ll grab mine and Nora’s.” He was pulling out my suitcase before anyone else had even rounded the back of the SUV.

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