Watching Tommy have to say goodbye to Becca sucks, to say the least. Becca and I are meeting her friends tonight and I have to leave early in the morning, so that doesn’t leave much time for them. “But why can’t I stay here with you?” Tommy asks. Over and over. Becca hugs him, seeming as disappointed as Tommy is. I can see her questioning her choices, wondering if it’s possible to change her plans, but her determination wins out and she promises Tommy that she’ll be all his in just two days. She even promises to have a sleepover with him in the fort, something I have a feeling won’t go down too well once she realizes just how open it is. She hates anything small that flies. With a passion. To the point where she’ll give you radio-silent treatment for an entire week if you place an innocent dead moth on her pillow.

I learned that the hard way.

Tommy and my mother leave with just enough time for Becca to make herself prettier, if that’s possible. She showers, gets dressed, and dabs on what little make up she wears while I sit on the edge of her bed and watch, because I can’t not. “Is this a fancy thing? Because I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I don’t really do well with fancy. It’s either casual or full tux with me.”

She quirks an eyebrow and covers her wrist with a gajillion bracelets. Then signs, the metal of her bangles clanking against each other, “You’ve worn a full…” she pauses… her hands frozen. Then she spells out, “T U X?”

“I have,” I answer defensively. “Once. At my uncle Rob’s wedding.”

She rolls her eyes. “How are they?” she signs.

“My aunt and uncle?”

She nods, moving toward me, her hips swaying, before sitting sideways on my lap. She signs, “I like them.”

“Well, my uncle’s gone a little crazy and my aunt’s the size of a house.” Becca’s eyes widen, causing me to chuckle. “Three rounds of IVF later, she’s finally pregnant. They’re going to name him Josh.”

“Shut up,” she mouths.

“I’m kidding. About the Josh thing. But she really is pregnant. She’s due in a couple weeks.”

Grinning, she signs, “That’s great.”

“You should come down for a weekend once they have him. They’d really like that. They ask about you all the time.” I kiss her shoulder, exposed from the extremely tight tank top she’s wearing. “I’ll organize it when I’m home and get C-Lo and Hunter to come down, too. They’ve been wanting to catch up with you ever since we got back together.”

There’s something peaceful about Becca’s smile. Like, without truly knowing her past, you can tell that it’s something to be cherished. Something that can only be created by moments worthy of them, and going by the way she’s looking at me, perfect teeth displayed behind a more than perfect smile, she makes me feel worthy of it. Of her. And so I kiss her, and kiss her some more, tasting her strawberry lip-gloss against my tongue and I know I’m probably ruining her efforts to look prettier but she doesn’t seem to mind. At least until my hand moves to her stomach, and beneath her top, and up, up, up to her breasts and that’s when she puts an end to my wandering mind.

She grasps my forearm and pulls away from my still half-open lips, her eyes opening slowly as if it’s taken all her will to do so. “Let’s go,” she mouths.

I grunt, causing her to laugh silently.

I call for a car and five minutes later, it shows up. Chris set us all up an account with a nationwide car service so we don’t catch cabs. It’s for security, he says, but I think it has more to do with the fact that pictures (which I’m sure a cab driver had taken) of Nico receiving um… pleasure… in the back of a cab once surfaced. Nico thought it was amazing. So did the other guys. I thought it was funny. Nico’s grandmother—a crazy old Puerto Rican lady who always seems to be holding something she can use as a weapon—did not find the amazement or humor in it.

She beat his ass pretty bad—though he’d never admit it—and promised to paddle the boat that would take him back home, all while cursing the entire United States of America.

Poor fucking Nico.

“What’s funny?” Becca says through her phone.

I blink out of my daydream and face her, shaking my head. “Just thinking about something Nico did.”

We arrive at the sports bar & grill. Becca told me earlier that it’s where a lot of the students from her college hang out. She said we were meeting up with a few of her friends. A few is a table of fifteen. “The girl of the hour,” some guy shouts, standing up and moving toward us as soon as we come into view. He hugs her, and she hugs him back, and they seem to do this for a long time. Much longer than I’m comfortable with. Best behavior, Warden.