“How long will he be here?” Now he sounds frustrated, which would make two of us.

I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “Hopefully not long, but I’m sure he’ll find a reason to drag it out.” Unless I can find a way to get rid of him. I take in Bishop’s somewhat angry expression. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the douche ex who’s coming over or because it interferes with his rehab, but I plan to capitalize on it either way. “I have an idea . . . if you want to help shorten his visit.”

“Sure. Yeah. What do you need?” He gives me a quick, somewhat jerky nod.

“He’s supposed to be here any minute. Maybe in, like, half an hour you can come back with the pizza, and I can pretend like I forgot we have a session? That way I won’t have to be alone with him for long, because I know he’s going to try to plead his case for us to get back together.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Now he looks seriously pissed. And I’m anxious, because Joey will be here any minute and I don’t have an exit strategy for him yet.

“Never mind. I’ll figure out an excuse. I’ll get Pattie to call and pretend there’s an emergency or something.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can’t believe that Assface thinks he actually has a chance with you after what he did. I can message you in, like, twenty and see where you’re at or if you need me to come by sooner.”

“Are you sure?” He sounds angry more than anything.

“Yeah. I’ll put your pizza in the oven to keep it warm, even though it means my apartment is going to smell like pineapple and olives.”

“It really doesn’t taste as bad as you think.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He turns around and heads back to his apartment.

“Thanks, Bishop. I appreciate you doing me this favor.”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder. “No worries. I owe you one anyway. A favor for a favor, right?”

“Yeah, right. A favor for a favor.”

CHAPTER 17

PAIN-IN-THE-ASS EX

Stevie

Joey shows up less than two minutes after Bishop goes back to his apartment. I hate that Joey has the power to bulldoze himself right back into my life like this. He’s like a burr—clingy, prickly, and impossible to get rid of.

“Hey, baby.” He tries to come in for a hug, but I put my hands out to stop him.

“Don’t call me pet names.”

“Sorry. Old habits die hard.” He gives me what I think is supposed to be a chagrined smile, but it’s about as believable as a magic trick performed by a three-year-old. What did I ever see in this tool?

“Where’s my suitcase?” I ask as he slips past me into my apartment. I glance at Bishop’s door before I close mine, relieved he’s willing to help me out even though it’s stupid drama no one really needs.

“Oh shit, sorry. I knew I forgot something.” He lets out a low whistle. “Wow. This is a sweet pad. How come we didn’t rent a place like this?”

“Because we couldn’t afford a place like this.”

“Is Rook footing the bill or something?”

“Or something.”

He nods. “Cool. Wanna give me the grand tour? I bet the bedrooms in this place are huge. You got a king-size bed?”

“I’m not showing you my bedroom, Joey.”

He holds his hands up. “Whoa. Don’t get so defensive. I’m just trying to break the ice. I know you’re still holding a grudge, but we can get through this.”

I run a palm down my face. I’d really like to tell him to go fuck himself, but it will make this whole gala situation that much more difficult. I promise myself that once this is over and I have my suitcase back, I will tell him my grudge is going to last until the end of time, and possibly even beyond that, so moving on would be smart. “Can we deal with this fundraiser-decorating thing?”

“Yeah. Sure. Let’s get the work out of the way so we can catch up.”

Joey wants to sit on the couch, but I insist it will be easier to do online research at the dining room table. I should know better than to think it’s going to thwart him. He pulls a chair right up beside me and keeps slinging his arm over the back of mine, making comments about how nice my hair smells. Which is bullshit, because I haven’t washed my hair in days.

I get up to pour us glasses of water. His is lukewarm from the tap—I’m not offering him anything that will make him feel welcome—and I need some space from his breathing down my neck, literally. I don’t think it’s been more than twenty minutes, but I fire off a text to Bishop, telling him that anytime he’s ready, I could use an intervention. I’m not even finished filling my own glass when there’s an aggressive knock. I feign surprise and skirt around the counter so I can answer the door. Joey looks totally put out by the interruption.

“Oh! Hi, Bishop! What’s up?” I say loudly.

Earlier when he stopped by, he was wearing sweats and a T-shirt. Now he’s shirtless, with all his perfectly defined muscles on display. He’s wearing a pair of actual shorts, but they look like they’re from the eighties. They show off the bruises coloring the inside of his thigh. They’re no longer black and blue and purple. They’ve faded to yellow green around the edges, the center a mottled purplish pink. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a slight sheen to his skin. Or maybe it’s the lighting.

He arches a brow. “Wow. You should’ve gone into acting.” He brushes by me, using only one crutch, the pizza box in his other hand. “I’m here for my rubdown,” he announces. He tosses the pizza box on the counter and makes a show of being surprised by Joey sitting at the table with his mouth hanging open.

“Oh shit. Did I get the time wrong?” Bishop taps his temple. “I had it in my head that you were gonna work me over for dinner.”

“Bishop Winslow?” Joey’s chair screeches across the floor. He crosses over to where Bishop leans against the counter. Their size difference is almost comical. Joey is maybe five eight or five nine, although he tells everyone he’s five eleven. Bishop is mammoth in comparison.

“Joey Smuck. I’m a huge fan.” Joey wipes his hands on his jeans and holds one out.

Bishop looks at his hand but doesn’t take it. “Your last name is Smuck?”

“Yeah. How do you two know each other?” Joey looks to me and drops his hand. “I didn’t think you hung out with your brother’s teammates.”

“Stevie’s my neighbor. She woke me up in the middle of the night when she moved in here.” Bishop turns his attention to me. “How long ago was it now?”

He doesn’t give me time to respond, which is just as well, because I have no idea where he’s going with this.

“Anyway, she was a beautiful fucking mess, and I was an asshole because she was making one hell of a racket. Now she gets to cause me physical pain on a regular basis, since she’s helping me rehab. It’s endless retribution. Isn’t that right, bae?”

I almost choke on my spit with the bae comment. I cough a couple of times to clear my throat and choose to ignore the pet name. “Uh, yeah. That about sums it up.”