Page 158 of Love You Wild
I study him carefully, looking for the real meaning behind his words. It’s a little odd, at the very least. He brings her to nearly every event, even if their label is purely casual.
“Look at you,” he mumbles around a mouthful of noodles, a clear sign the topic is done with. “You’re a pussy. How did that even happen? Next time this year, bet you’re a married man, maybe even a dad.”
“Shut up,” I murmur, gently squeezes the back of Claire’s clammy neck.
“I’ll be walking down the aisle, holding your wedding rings. I have to start prepping my best man speech. What embarrassing stories—”
“Who says you’ll be my best man?”
Jaw hanging, the look he wears is pure outrage. “If I’m not your best man, I’ll stand up when the minister asks if there’s anybody who objects.” He pounds a fist down on the desk. “I’ll object that shit so fucking fast you won’t know what hit you. Claire’ll punch you in the dick for ruining her wedding day.”
My chest vibrates with a low chuckle. There’s nobody else I’d choose to stand up beside me and he knows it. Wyatt’s so much more than just my best friend, my partner. He’s a brother to me.
Claire stirs with a soft sigh, hand sliding up my chest, over my collarbone. “Wyatt,” she grumbles, eyes still closed. Her tongue flicks out, coating her lips. “Shut the hell up, please, or I’ll punch you in the dick.”
I swallow my laugh. Wyatt doesn’t even attempt to suppress his. It comes barking out.
“Christ. Haven’t even put a ring on her finger yet and she’s already a bridezilla. Not too late to get out of this whole relationship shit, Ave.”
Claire cracks one lid, just enough to locate my pen, which she promptly flings through the air at my best bud’s forehead. Her aim is spot on.
“It’s my birthday weekend,” she says sadly. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I’m sorry.” Wyatt stands and rounds the desk. He takes Claire’s face between his hands and pecks both cheeks. “Jesus, your face is on fire,” he remarks, eyes widening before he tweaks her nose. “You’re right. You’re the birthday princess. No teasing. Until tomorrow, at least. All bets are off when we’re at the cottage. Also, you’re getting birthday bumps. Twenty-six, and four more for good luck.” He kisses her forehead. “Thanks for lunch, Claire Bear.”
After lunch, I send Claire home in my car with Jacob, and then I rush home to her before five even rolls around. I check her apartment first, though I’m ninety-nine percent sure she won’t be there. Sometimes she doesn’t even enter her apartment for an entire week.
I want to keep her forever.
And sure enough, she’s not there. Instead, I find her passed out, naked, in my bed, Sully at her feet. The cat is nowhere to be found, which is never a good sign.
I find him in the bathroom, sleeping on a pile of shredded toilet paper. Fucking cat. I snap a picture and send it to my sister with nothing but the word thanks.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I push Claire’s damp hair off her forehead. She’s not so warm this time. I lean over, pressing a kiss to her lips, and they part on a sharp inhale.
“Oh,” she mumbles, stretching her arms overhead the way Chester does. When they come down, she brings me with them. “You’re home.”
“Mhmm. How you feeling, beautiful?”
She touches her throat, blinking up at me. “Better, I think. It doesn’t hurt as much.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” The tip of my finger dances over the dainty freckles decorating her nose. “Our cat’s an asshole, by the way.”
“Did he rip up the toilet paper again?”
“Uh huh.”
“I like that you call him our cat.” She threads her fingers through my hair. Her green eyes are bright and clear, a stark contrast from the hazy, red-rimmed mess earlier today. She’s definitely feeling better.
“I want to share everything with you,” I tell her honestly, not caring one bit how vulnerable that makes me sound.
“Mmm, so Sully’s half mine?”
I roll my eyes, glancing at the obsessed, fluffy black blob guarding her feet while she sleeps. “I think Sully’s all yours. He’d choose you over me any day of the week.”
“But you’re his daddy.”
“And you’re his mommy.”
