Page 105 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
Maya’s already curling onto the couch, tucking one leg beneath her, the other pulled close. Her sweatshirt sleeves cover her hands as she beams up at me, eyes wide with that giddy, unfiltered delight that always knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Did you get it?”
I nod, reaching into the bookstore bag and tossing the paperback into her lap.What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Werewolflands with a soft thud on the blanket.
She stares at it for a second, and then lets out a cackle so loud it startles Jake, who nearly drops one of the cinnamon rolls.
“Oh myGod,” she wheezes, flipping the book over to read the blurb. “It’s even worse than I imagined. ‘Hairy cravings and full-moon nesting instincts’?”
“You’re welcome,” I say, sinking down beside her, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. She leans into me.
Ethan settles on the floor at her feet, stretching his legs out and reaching for a cinnamon roll. He rests his back against the couch, head tilted just enough that it brushes Maya’s knee.
Jake returns with two forks, flopping into the armchair with a theatrical grunt and tossing one onto the coffee table. “If this has raisins again, I swear to God…”
“I checked,” I deadpan. “You’re safe.”
Ethan grabs the remote and turns the TV on, filling the space with the opening notes of a show we’ve already watched five times. Familiar jokes. Familiar lines. The kind of comfort that requires no attention, just presence.
Maya peels off a gooey piece of cinnamon roll and holds it out to Ethan. “Here. Taste and tell me I’m not a genius.”
He takes it dramatically, eyes fluttering closed as he bites in. “I could die right now. This is what heaven tastes like.”
Jake snorts, mouth full. “You’re such a cinnamon slut.”
Maya grins and tears off another piece, popping it into her own mouth before turning to me. She kisses my cheek, soft and lingering, her lips warm and sugary. “Thanks for going.”
I meet her gaze. “I’d go a hundred times.”
She watches me for a bit longer than usual. Like she’s reading me the way she always can. Not pushing, justnoticing.
“You okay?” she asks, so only I hear it over the TV.
I pause.
I think of Nick’s face. His words. The weight of what I said back. The freedom of it. I think of the walk to the car, the tremble in my hands, the buzz still in my chest.
I nod. “Yeah. I am now.”
She doesn’t press. Just nods once, slow and certain, and laces her fingers through mine. Her head rests against my shoulder, and I let myself sink into it. Let my body uncoil at last.
The tension drains from me slowly, like water down a drain. I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding everything—until this.
The quiet. The warmth. The simple nearness of her and the guys close by.
Ethan leans his head back against Maya’s leg and says, “If anyone touches that last roll before I’ve had my second, I will take you out with a fork.”
Jake flips him off lazily from the armchair without even looking away from the TV screen.
Maya laughs, and I feel it vibrate through her into me.
Chapter forty-two
ETHAN
The house is quiet in that rare, golden window between dinner cleanup and the inevitable chaos of deciding what to binge next. The living room’s lowly lit, soft and cozy, with one throw blanket claimed by Jake’s long legs and another slung over the back of the couch.
Upstairs, the faint whir of Maya’s yoga playlist filters down through the floorboards—something mellow and flute-heavy, underscored by her occasional sighs of effort or boredom.
