Page 32 of Best Kept Secret
Me: Sigh… whatever.
Red: No “accidentally” walking around naked.
I throw my head back, laughing out loud.
Me: Okay,clothes police.
Red: Fine.
My heart flies up into the back of my throat, and I push up into a sitting position, gaping down at my phone while holding my breath like a fucking loser.
Me: You want to move in?
Red: If it means I don’t have to witness my brother railing my soon-to-be sister-in-law where I make my dinner, then yes.
Me: Yes, what?
I know I’m pushing it, but I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to her.
Red: Yes, please…
Red: Asshole.
I laugh, shaking my head, because there’s my girl.
CHAPTER 14
MILLIE
“So, this is Logan Cullen’s apartment, huh?”
“It’s a lot lesssingle bachelorthan I imagined.”
I’m breathless as I place the last of my things onto the pile by the front door, following the sound of Emily and Fran’s voices. They stand in the entryway of the open-plan living area, assessing the space like curators at an art gallery. A small but modern kitchen overlooks a great room with a four-seater breakfast table, a big gray U-shaped sectional that faces a huge television hung up on the wall, and a wall of glass with doors that open to a small balcony that looks out over a south-facing view of the city. The place is mostly white with light oak accents, a big cream rug, and some framed pictures placed about. There’re even potted pants. Real ones, not fake. I’m quietly impressed as I take it all in.
“He probably had someone come in and clean it,” I say, looking around at how spotless the place is. Not a beer can in sight. “Either that or he’s Patrick Bateman.”
Emily flashes me a knowing smile. I opened up to her last night about how nervous I am living not only with Logan, but with a man in general. The only men I’ve ever lived with have been my brothers and my father. But they’re family. I don’t evenknow Logan. At least not like I thought I knew him. Who knows what kind of person he is. What if he has a bad habit? Like drinking milk straight from the carton or, I don’t know, picking up prostitutes and carving their bodies into pieces with a chainsaw.
Logan is away on a road trip until Sunday, but he said I could move in whenever I wanted. I’ve been so busy trying not to quit my job every day this week that it’s taken me until now to get my shit together. Plus, it’s been nice just living with Emily at the apartment, without the constant fear of walking into a room to see her getting fucked by my brother.
“Okay.” Fran claps her hands together. “Who wants to snoop?” Her blue eyes are wider than saucers as she looks from me to Emily and back again before huffing a laugh. “I’m joking…” She quirks a brow, looking at us both one more time as she says, “Unless you guys want to—then I’m totally down.”
“We’re notsnooping,” Emily chides, swatting Fran’s arm.
Fran’s shoulders fall on a sigh. “Boring.”
I chuckle.
“Let’s order pizza,” Emily says.
“And wine!” Fran shouts from where she’snot snoopingin the kitchen. I watch as she pulls open the fridge door, peering inside, moving to the cabinets. “There’s literally nothing here, except this… random industrial-sized vat of Nutella.”
I snap my head up, eyes bulging at the giant tub of Nutella in Fran’s hand, and I don’t miss the way something unfamiliar winds itself around my heart. I’m forced to tamp down the smile that tries to tug at my lips. Nutella is my one comfort food. I eat it by the spoonful at the end of bad day. And the fact that Logan has ordered it in bulk and left it here for me is infuriatingly sweet.
“Maybe our boy Loges has some sort of secret Nutella kink…” Fran waggles her eyebrows, twisting off the lid and looking inside. “No obvious penis-shaped holes,” she adds with a casual shrug.
“Fran!” Emily laughs out loud.
