Chapter Thirty-Six

Mary-Belle

I wake up hours later to Quinn’s snoring from the floor and notice that the place Ambrose was lying on the couch is empty. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom?

I stumble down the hall in search of water when Ambrose comes out of the bathroom.

We stare each other down.

He looks ruffled and sexy with his hair poking out in every direction, and his full lips look so sexy I want to cry.

He gives me a sleepy grin. “Sorry, had to pee, and bonus didn’t have an erection, so I was actually able to, thanks to not sleeping next to you.”

“Boo.” I give him a thumbs down. “I was going to grab some water.”

“Can I come with?”

“Sureeeee.” I hold out my hand.

He stares at it for a few seconds, then takes it in his as we walk down the hall toward the kitchen. It’s dark and quiet, but it doesn’t feel lonely the way it used to.

Is it because Quinn’s here with us?

Is it because Ambrose and I have finally talked about everything?

Or is it because wherever this boy is—is my home?

I go to the fridge and open it, grabbing a bottle of water. Ambrose comes up behind me and closes the fridge with his hand, I never really paid attention to hands, but his fingers are beautiful.

Even though they can do insanely wicked things.

I shiver and stare at our little list of rules.

“How did you and Quinn become friends anyway?” I’m staring straight ahead, making small talk even though I’m genuinely curious.

“Well…” Ambrose pulls me back against him. “He kind of just forced it on me, sat next to me in Math, told me he was a numbers guy. I didn’t believe him, a bet turned into me buying him a burger, and we both complained about parents that gave us shit. I later found out that his dad was one of my dad’s lawyers for a few projects, and my parents approved of our friendship because we’re both rich as fuck.”

“Until they didn’t, right?”

He’s quiet, and then. “Until they thought he was my boyfriend, pretty much.”

I start to trace the different letters on our agreement. “Why didn’t you deny it?”

“Because they were being pretentious cunts,” he says. “And insulting. And I was pissed. I shouldn’t have to ask them who I can love. Parents’ love should be unconditional. I guess in a perfect world, there would be, but in my dad’s world, there were rules, and that would count as breaking them.”

I nod. “That’s sad.”

“Very sad.”

“So why did you guys have the falling out?”

“Because at the end of the day, he chose her over me; he says he had no choice, his hands were tied, but part of me wonders if it wasn’t just because he wanted something that I did, we’d always been competitive. I saw it as a challenge, I think he saw it as a threat. Who really knows? She’s the worst, at least, we both know that now.”