Her surprise doesn’t appear feigned at all. “What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I slept on the couch last night after…what happened. And left this morning before you woke up.”

She blinks and then laughs. “Shiloh, you’re not the first skittish person I’ve seduced.” Her smile warms me right through. “To be clear, I am seducing you. Present tense.”

I blink. “What?”

She catches my hand and flips it over to run her nails lightly over my wrist. “That is, if you want me to.” She steps closer. Not quite close enough to be inappropriate, but she’s certainly in my space. Monroe looks up at me. “Do you want me to seduce you, love?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

She doesn’t move. “Even if that means Broderick is involved?”

My body flushes hot and then cold. I was so incredibly reckless last night, but I can’t quite bring myself to regret it. “He’s my best friend. I don’t want to ruin that.” I don’t mean to say it, but I don’t mean to say a lot of things when it comes to Monroe. She has this way of pulling back my layers and shining the light on the parts of me I keep close to my heart. It’s unnerving in the extreme.

“You won’t,” she answers so easily, I almost believe her.

It’s tempting, so goddamned tempting, to tell her that I don’t want Broderick to be involved. I can’t be that selfish, though. Not only would it be a lie, but it would ultimately endanger Monroe herself. She and Broderick need to figure things out in order to preserve peace. That is more important than anything, even my potential heartbreak.

It’s just sex.

No reason to complicate things more simply because I’m scared.

I swallow hard. “Then yes, even if it means Broderick’s involved.” A small part of me can’t help wondering if maybe blowing up our old friendship is the only way to fix it. I miss him. I miss him showing up, seemingly at random, during my night shifts sometimes, and keeping me company. I miss the long meandering conversations we used to have, ones about everything and nothing, but felt so fucking safe because Broderick always cared about what I had to say. I miss the movie nights, and the after-shift drinks, and having him drag me to some hole in the wall pub he discovered.

I just flat out miss him.

“It’s hard when a friendship jumps the tracks and you don’t know how to get it back, isn’t it?”

The question sounds sincere enough, so I answer honestly. “It’s the worst.”

“Stick with me, love. We’ll figure it out.”