The Mistake

“Yes, because that’s what you told me,” I say pointedly.

Hannah walks up to Grace and sticks out her hand. “Hi. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Hannah.”

“I’m Grace.”

“I know.” Hannah can’t seem to wipe the big, stupid smile off her face. “Logan talks about you all the time.”

Grace glances at me. “You do?”

“All the livelong day,” Garrett confirms, flashing his big, stupid smile. “He also writes long, sweeping poems about you and recites them to us in the living room every night.”

Hannah snorts.

I give him the finger.

“Oh, I know about the poems,” Grace tells my best friend. “I’ve already submitted the one he sent me to an anthology press in Boston.”

I whirl around to glare at her. “You better be kidding about that.”

Garrett gives a hoot of laughter. “Doesn’t matter if she is. Because now I’ll be submitting it.”

“I feel left out,” Hannah announces. “Why am I the only one who hasn’t read this poem?”

“I’ll email it to you,” Grace offers, which brings a hell-no growl from my lips.

“So what are we eating?” Garrett marches over to the fridge. “I’m starving, and someone didn’t want to stop at the diner for brunch.”

“I’m there four days a week,” his girlfriend protests. “It’s the last place I want to go on my days off.”

He pulls out two cartons of eggs. “You guys feel like omelets?”

We’re all in agreement, so Garrett gets busy cracking eggs while Hannah and Grace chop vegetables at the counter. My job is to set the table, which takes all of thirty seconds. Smirking, I plop down on a stool and watch them work.

“You’re doing dishes,” Hannah warns as she hands Garrett a cutting board laden with green peppers.

I’m cool with that. I lean my elbows on the counter and ask, “So why’d you guys come back early?”

“Because Allie and Sean are currently engaged in an epic fight.” She glances at Grace. “My roommate and her boyfriend.”

“Soon-to-be ex from the sounds of it,” Garrett remarks from the stove. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard two people yell at each other like that before.”

Hannah sighs. “Sometimes they really bring out the worst in each other. But on the flip side, they also bring out the best in each other. That’s why they keep breaking up and getting back together. I thought for sure it would stick this time, but who knows.”

A mouthwatering aroma begins wafting through the kitchen. Garrett’s not the greatest cook, but he makes damn good omelets. Ten minutes later, he serves us fluffy, golden goodness loaded with cheese, mushrooms, and peppers, and the four of us settle around the table. It feels like a double date, which is surreal as hell. Up until last year, Garrett wasn’t interested in girlfriends, and up until last month, neither was I.

I like it, though. Hannah and Grace are getting along. The conversation’s lively. We laugh a lot. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at peace, and by the time we finish eating, I don’t even care that I’m stuck doing dishes.

Grace takes pity on me and helps me clear the table, then follows me to the sink, where I quickly rinse each plate before loading them in the dishwasher.

“I can see why you wanted her.” Her voice is barely audible, but wistful enough that it makes my shoulders go rigid.

When I realize she’s gazing at Hannah, guilt pricks my heart, bringing a sharp sting of pain. I hadn’t mentioned Hannah’s name when I told Grace about her in April, but I had admitted to liking my best friend’s girlfriend. Clearly Grace has put two and two together.

“She’s funny. And really pretty,” Grace says awkwardly.

I dry my hands with a dishrag and grasp her chin, drawing her gaze to mine. “I didn’t want her,” I murmur. I nudge Grace’s head in the direction of the table again. “I wanted that.”

Garrett has just tugged Hannah into his lap, one arm wrapping around her as he plants a kiss on the tip of her nose. The fingers of his free hand thread through her dark hair, and she leans closer to whisper something in his ear that makes him chuckle. The way they look at each other…the reverence with which he touches her…they’re disgustingly in love, and anyone can see it.

Including Grace, who turns back to me with a smile. “Yeah. Who wouldn’t want that?”

Once the kitchen is squeaky clean, we disappear upstairs again, but not to have sex. We’ve barely slept this weekend thanks to our fuck-a-thon—not complaining, by the way—so we decide to take a nap. I set the alarm to make sure we don’t oversleep, because I’m supposed to drive Grace to her dad’s house at six.

We climb under the covers and I yank her warm body toward me, spooning her from behind. A contented sigh slips out, but right as I start to drift off, her voice teases me back to a state of alertness.

“John?” she murmurs.

My heart squeezes. I don’t know why it does that every time she uses my first name. She calls me Logan too, and Johnny when she’s making fun of me, but it’s only John that floods my chest with emotion like this.

“Mmmm?”

“Do you want to come for dinner?”

I stiffen, and she doesn’t miss the response. She releases a soft laugh and adds, “You’re allowed to say no. But…I mean, you’ve already kind of met my mother, and just so you know, my dad isn’t too scary. If anything, you might find him boring. He talks about science a lot.”