“Fuck?”
“Exactly.” He sighs. “Having a kid around all the time really messes with a man’s sex life.”
So does grief.
Not that I’m expecting Lennon to take care of my needs. I just hate how we’ve gone from fucking like animals twice a day to…jack shit.
Unless you count all the jacking I’ve been doing in the shower.
As if reading my mind, Storm says, “How’s Lennon?”
“She’s fine.”
“Out of bed fine? Or…”
“Throwing a granola bar at my head fine because she doesn’t want to eat.”
“Ah,” he says. “So the still not okay fine.”
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I take a seat at the table.
The same table her father was sitting at when he suffered his stroke. No wonder Lennon hasn’t stepped foot in the kitchen.
“She needs to get out of the house.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Some fresh air would be good for her.”
“I mean permanently. How the hell is she supposed to move on when she’s stuck in the place where everything is a reminder of him?”
It’s like pouring salt in a wound that won’t ever heal.
He sucks in a breath. “It’s not a bad idea. There’s just one problem.”
“What?”
“If she’s throwing granola bars at your head and refusing to leave her bed, how the hell are you gonna get her to leave the house?”
I have no fucking idea.
CHAPTER 78
PHOENIX
Four days later, I’m calling in some reinforcements of my own.
Skylar.
Mrs. Palma’s great, but Skylar knows exactly what Lennon’s going through because she recently went through it herself when she lost Josh.
I’m also hoping she’ll be able to sway Lennon to move to California, because when I broached the topic, Lennon locked me out of her bedroom for twenty-four hours.
“You know what to do, right?”
Skylar nods. “I’ll try my best to complete the mission, but I make no guarantees.”
“Tell her we can buy a new house.” I rub the knot of tension forming in my neck. “I’ll do and give her anything she wants.”
I just need to get her out of here.
“Got it.”
Squaring her shoulders, she heads up the staircase, and I call Storm.
He picks up on the third ring, sounding out of breath. “Emergency?”
The sound of some chick moaning in the background fills my ears. That’s when I remember he’s fucking his way through Los Angeles because Gram’s is still in town for a few more days.
“Nope.”
After hanging up with him, I dial Memphis.
Unlike Storm, he sounds…bored.
“Hey,” he drawls. “I was just about to call you.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Nothing.” He makes an irritated noise in his throat. “Aside from dodging the camera crew because they’re filming today.”
I stifle a laugh. To be a fly on the wall of the Barclay mansion right now.
As if on cue, he snaps, “Get that thing out of my goddamn face. I told you not to fucking film me.”
“Calm down, babe,” Gwyneth whines in the background. “It will only be for a minute.”
There’s a loud crash.
“He just broke my camera!” some guy shouts.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t your fucking face,” Memphis bellows before a door slams shut. “Sorry about that, man. I’m back.”
I grin. “How’s engagement life?”
Two weeks ago he popped the question and just like Skylar said, it took some of the heat off me. I owe him.
He snorts. “How’s newlywed life?”
Touché, motherfucker.
“I’m trying to convince Lennon to move to California. Or rather, Skylar is.”
“Shouldn’t be an issue.” I hear him light up a cigarette. “Sky’s good at getting whatever she wants out of people.”
I don’t miss the venomous edge in his tone.
Opening the back door to the patio, I light my own cigarette. “You two on speaking terms yet?”
“Only when we have to be.” The edge in his voice intensifies. “She’s talking to Chandler a lot, though.”
No surprise there.
Memphis doesn’t strike me as stupid. Far from it—given the way he tends to sit back and observe shit—but maybe he doesn’t realize what I do.
“Chandler wants Skylar.”