Page 34 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

So that means another night sitting here wondering what went wrong.

He’s keeping something from me. That much is clear. There’s something going on he doesn’t want to discuss, and the only logical explanation is a woman. He’s been so great about supporting me through this recent breakup, and all the others before, so if he is seeing someone, he might feel guilty about finally finding someone when I’m so single and miserable.

It would certainly explain things. Though definitely not excuse them. There isn’t anything we can’t talk about. Or at least, that’s what I thought until Sunday.

But the longer this goes on, the worse I feel. It needs to end soon, for my own sanity.

Though, I can search for a way to pass the time until Flynn comes to his senses. At least HRD4U gives me a bit of a distraction. He’s helped me make it through this crappy couple of days with sick kids, teacher conferences, no romantic prospects on the horizon, and the weirdness with Flynn.

His performances are fun and naughty and everything I need to relieve the stress I feel at the end of the day. So as long as I continue to come home alone every night, I’ll be coming home to see if HRD4U is online from now on. A little release does everyone some good, and tonight, another lonely night without my best friend beside me on the couch or anyone to warm my bed, definitely calls for one.

I grab my computer and flip off the living room lights. A faint light in Flynn’s window, visible through the partially raised blinds, gives me pause. He’s home. I could go over there. I could demand he tell me what the hell his problem is and make him come clean. But that’s not the kind of relationship we’ve had—angry and confrontational—and if I press him to talk before he’s ready, I may end up only making things worse.

So, it’s time to see what’s happening with my favorite webcam star instead. I slip into my silky pajama pants and a tank top and settle onto my bed, even though it’s only eight o’clock. It might as well be midnight with as emotionally exhausted as I feel.

My fingers fly over the keyboard to load the site.

But the knock on the front door has me jerking my laptop closed. Sitting here, waiting for HRD4U to come online is pretty damn lame. And desperate. And I don’t want to become the wallower Alicia accused me of being only a few days ago.

I climb from my bed and slowly approach the front door. Only a handful of people would be on my porch at this time of night. And one of them isn’t talking to me. I tug open the door, and Flynn stands holding a bouquet of wild daisies.

My favorite.

“Peace offering.” It still isn’t an apology for the other day in the car. The way he snapped at me. He hasn’t offered any explanation, but it could be coming.

I shouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

He has to know how fucked up that was.

I narrow my eyes at him and put on my best scowl. His other hand appears from behind his back with a bottle of tequila.

Well, hell…

How can I stay mad when he brought tequila?

“Tequila?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You know how you react to this stuff.”

The man can drink brown liquor with no problem, but give him a little tequila, and he’s sloshed within a few minutes with a wicked hangover the next day.

He chuckles and shakes the bottle, taunting me with it. “So, the fact that this is what I’m bringing you should tell you something.”

I reach out and snatch it. “Come on in.”

He follows me into the kitchen and sets the flowers onto the counter next to the bottle I put there. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was just…frustrated with some things. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you when you were only trying to help.”

Amen.

At least he’s managed to come around to this realization on his own. Most men these days would think what he did was totally fine, not the least bit inappropriate. But Flynn isn’t most men.

He’s the best of the best.

The tops.

Even when he momentarily acts like a jackass.

After growing up with Bash and Jameson, I should have anticipated the occasional dickish move, and I can’t hold a grudge against him when he’s standing here apologizing.

“No. You shouldn’t have.” I grab a vase and two tumblers and set them on the counter next to the tequila and flowers. “But since you brought these humble offerings, I’m willing to forgive you.”

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