I hit the screen to end call and dropped my phone on the counter. When I did this, Brock turned me so we were face to face and both his arms were around me.

“Not my biggest fan,” he muttered but he didn’t appear the least broken up about it.

“You want to hang with me, you might want to put some work into that,” I suggested.

“Right,” he replied, then said, “No, babe. I’ll tell you now, she don’t like me, she don’t like me and I don’t give a fuck.”

Hm. Another drawback.

“She’s my best friend,” I reminded him.

“If she is, she’ll come to see what’s good for you and she’ll sort her shit out. If she’s a different kind of woman, she won’t. Instead, she’ll see green and won’t clue in that men do not want high-maintenance drama queens so much they steer well clear and until she shifts that shit outta her life, it’s gonna be a lonely one. Unlike her friend who sees a man drinking outta her milk jug, processes that it’s highly unlikely she’s gonna break him of that habit, seein’ as he’s forty-five and still does it and has since he was a kid, lets it go, and moves on all in the expanse of about a second. Instead of throwing a shit fit about it, which gets her nowhere, is a waste of energy, and leaves both involved feeling like garbage.”

Well, I had to admit, all that was interesting and insightful and weirdly mature.

Still.

“Well, now that we’re on that subject, it’s somewhat unhygienic for you to drink out of the milk jug.”

“Babe, I had my tongue in your mouth for ten minutes this morning. How’s that any different?”

I tipped my head to the side while considering this point.

Then I shared, “Your point holds merit.”

He burst out laughing, and in the middle of it buried his face in my neck so when he was done he could kiss me there.

This was nice as in way nice.

He used to do that all the time too.

And I’d missed it.

His head came up and his eyes captured mine.

“You all right with me jumpin’ in the shower before I head out?”

Brock naked in my shower and all the delightful visions that would generate that I could pull out and turn over in my head anytime I wanted?

Uh…

Yeah!

“Sure,” I said.

His mouth hitched up on one side and I liked that too.

Then his semi-smile faded, his arms squeezed, and he asked, “You want me here for salad?”

“Do you want to be here for salad?” I asked back.

“What I want is for you to tell me what you want,” he replied.

I thought about this.

Then I said hesitantly, “Maybe not.”

“Right,” he muttered.