Tommy answers the door, still dressed in his camera-patterned pajamas with a bright green top hat. He looks like a sleepy leprechaun, only a thousand times more adorable. “Top of the mornin’ to ya, madam,” he says through a giggle, tipping the hat and taking my hand. He kisses it once, just as Josh calls out from somewhere in the house, “Tommy! I told you not to answer the door without me.”

Tommy rolls his eyes—a trait Josh swears he learned from me. “It’s just Becca and some lady,” Tommy moans.

The door opens wider and Josh appears wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His dark hair’s wet, beads of water hanging off the ends, falling onto his shoulders, down his chest, past the dips of his abs and into—“Becs,” he says, and my eyes move to his, but my mouth’s hanging open and I can’t seem to shut it. “You want to borrow Tommy’s camera? Take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

My mouth snaps shut, my brows knitting. I give him the most dramatic eye roll I can muster, then point over my shoulder.

His smile widens. “Hi, Sadie.”

“Top of the mornin’ to ya, Sadie,” Tommy says.

Josh’s gaze flicks between Sadie and me. “Who’s watching Ma’am right now?”

Sadie answers, “She’s with a nurse from the hospital. Don’t worry. I sat in through all the important stuff. Everything’s taken care of.”

Josh straightens, his welcoming smile switching to an arrogant smirk. “We were just getting ready to have some breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

I step inside, not bothering to wait for a response, and march to the kitchen where I turn on the coffee pot and start pulling out things for Tommy’s breakfast.

Josh says, “Why don’t you have a seat, Sadie?”

I hate the way he says her name, like there’s an ulterior motive behind it. Sadie. Sadie. Sleep with me, Sadie? “Morning,” Josh whispers, his mouth to my ear and his hand on my waist as he stands behind me. I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and without looking at him, type: Get some damn clothes on!!!

He chuckles when he reads it, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just steps to the side, tightening the towel around him. He makes quick work of pouring coffees and getting Tommy’s cereal for him, all while walking around practically naked—no shame to his game. He says, “Tommy, doesn’t Becca look beautiful today?”

Tommy smiles up at me. “Beautiful!” he repeats.

“In fact, I’d say she looks pretty damn hot.”

“Pretty damn hot!” Tommy repeats again.

Sadie giggles.

Josh announces, “I’m going to get dressed.” Then he moves toward me, a smirk still in place, right before he throws me over his shoulder. I’d scream. You know… if I actually could. But I fight. My fists thump on his bare back the entire way down the hallway and into his room. He lowers me slowly onto his bed and hovers over me, his weight held up by his outstretched arm. His eyebrows rise. “So you called Sadie?”

After shoving him out of the way, I stand quickly and move to his dresser where I pull out a pair of his boxer briefs and throw them at his head.

He laughs. “Sure you don’t want to dress me?” he asks, already slipping them on under the towel. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you jealous and I gotta be honest, I’m kinda really into it.”

Wow. He got real cocky overnight.

I cross my arms. “Shut up,” I mouth.

He laughs harder. “You know, I’ve always said green was your color.”

I pull open another drawer, pick out the first T-shirt I see and throw that at his head, too. Then I do the same with a pair of sweatpants. He dresses himself, his stupid grin never leaving him. “Yo. What size do you think Sadie is?” he asks, moving around the cardboard boxes lining his wall. “I think I have some girls’ clothes here.” He rummages some more. “Here they are.” He holds up a pair of bright pink shorts. “Red Bull booty shorts. You think she’d like them?” His nose is in the air now, like he’d just found a solution to world peace, not mastered the ability to push my buttons. As ashamed as I am to admit, it works, because something takes over me. I’m not sure what. But the next thing I know, I’m jumping on his bed, using it as leverage to leap up and grab the stupid shorts from him. He holds them behind his back just in time and wraps his free arm around my waist, trapping me to him. He’s laughing—an all-consuming laugh—and I fight the urge to do the same. He dips his head, his mouth to my ear again. He smells like soap and memories of mornings helping him get ready for work—back when work meant hanging dry-wall. “I like this game we’re playing, Becs. I could do it all damn day.”