Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(10)

“It’s weird having you here,” I tell him honestly, going to my dresser to grab a nightgown and a pair of panties. “I’ll be right back.” I go into my bathroom, strip out of my clothes, brush my teeth, and wash away the leftover makeup still on my face.

With my eyes feeling heavy, I open the door and find the room mostly dark, proving that men are capable of figuring out just about any remote without help. I make my way around to the side of the bed I always sleep on and gasp as the duvet is tossed back and a hand grabs mine, pulling me into bed.

“Sleep,” he commands, curling his big body around mine. His lips touch my temple, his arm curls around my waist, his hand going between my legs to cup me, the position the exact one I woke up to with him earlier. I want to tell him that I won’t be able to sleep with him crowding me, but honestly, exhaustion takes over, and my eyes drift closed before I can even open my mouth.

_______________

SITTING IN MY robe at the kitchen island, my hair still wet from my shower, I take a bite of my everything bagel and chew as I watch a shirtless Maxim talk on the phone outside. When he stops at the rail with his back to me, his muscles flex as he leans into it, causing the dimple just above the waistband of his boxers to become more noticeable.

I can honestly say it’s a good thing he doesn’t want a house where his neighbors can see him like he is now. Lord knows the women would be swooning, and the husbands would probably charge his front door with pitchforks and demand he leave the neighborhood. After I swallow, I pick up my coffee, taking a sip, then grab my phone when it starts to ring.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer when I see it’s her, then pull my phone away from my ear when she screeches excitedly.

“Are you home right now?”

“I am. What’s up?”

“Oh my God, oh my God.”

“Oh my God, what?” I take my now-empty plate around the island, sure she’s going to tell me that another one of my sisters or cousins is pregnant, something that seems to be happening at an alarming rate.

“Turn on the radio.” She shouts the name of the station, and I frown down at my plate.

“Why?”

“Because Cohen is on the radio right now, talking about you.”

“He’s what?” My brows drag together.

“He’s talking about you. About how you are the one who got away.”

“You’re kidding me.” I let my head fall back to my shoulders. “Mom, I’m not going to listen to that, and you shouldn’t either.”

“It’s so sweet, honey.” She turns up the volume of the radio, and soon, a woman’s voice is filling my ear.

“So you’re telling me this girl you wrote an entire album about is refusing to even talk to you?” the woman prompts.

“I didn’t do right by her,” Cohen says, his voice sounding just as I remember it.

“Okay, I get that, but I think everyone would agree with me that she should at least hear you out. I mean, where is the harm in that?” she asks.

“That’s what I’m saying,” a man who sounds like Troy, Cohen’s best friend, says with a chuckle that grates on my nerves.

“So who is she?” the woman questions.

“I’m not going to put her name out there,” Cohen replies, which is something I’m thankful for, because the last thing I need is drama from this situation.

“Her name is a month,” Troy says, and my jaw tightens. Apparently, he’s still a dick—not surprising.

“Oh, a month, that’s fun! There are only a couple of months that people name their kids after,” the interviewer singsongs.

“Not in her family,” Brock inserts, laughing, and so do the rest of the guys.

“Mom, please, turn it off,” I order, unwilling to listen to more, and the background noise dies down, but I can tell she’s listening to it. “Do I need to remind you that you didn’t even like Cohen when he and I were seeing each other?”

“It’s not that I didn’t like him. I just… well, I thought you could do better.”

“And you don’t think I can do better than him now?” I turn around, then scream when I come face-to-face with Maxim.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Mom asks, worry clear in her tone.

“I’m fine.” I hold my hand to my chest. “Just got startled.”

“Sorry about that,” Maxim rumbles, and my mom gasps.

“Who’s that? Is someone there with you?”

“Mom—”

“It’s a guy. That was a guy!”

“Mom.” I laugh. “I need to get off the phone. I have to get ready for work.”

“You’re not going to tell me who that was?”

“No,” I say simply.

“You never tell me anything,” she pouts, and I laugh. “Fine, love you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Love you too, and no more listening to the radio.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles and hangs up.

I set down my phone and look at Maxim. “I’m going to go up and get dressed. Our first appointment is in an hour.”

“Something going on with your ex?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest while leaning his hips against the edge of the counter, his eyes studying mine intently.