Page 101 of Sugar & Ink
I absolutely fucking did.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Josie
Rome’s back porch had become my favorite place in the world.
Which was weird because a month ago, my favorite place was probably the couch in my apartment, where I ate cookie dough straight from the carton and pretended I was thriving after my divorce.
Now?
Now it was Rome’s old wooden porch with its creaky boards, mismatched chairs, and the soft glow of string lights he’d hung up because he thought they looked cool.
The night air was cool, carrying the smell of fresh-cut grass and rain somewhere in the distance. Rome had a beer balanced on the arm of his chair and I had my feet tucked beneath me and my shoulder pressed against his.
Rome had finally gotten back from Bruce’s house and immediately texted me. No need for bail. Followed by Yet.
I came over twenty minutes later. “You really showed up at his house with Mack, Cash, and Skid?”
Rome snorted.
“He should have felt lucky I didn’t bring Prez.”
I stared at him. “That’s worse?”
“Depends who you ask.”
“You are insane.”
“I prefer passionate about the things I care about.” Rome shifted in his chair and draped an arm around my shoulders.
I went willingly.
Which if you’d asked me six months ago if I’d be happily cuddling with a tattoo artist seven years younger than me on his back porch while discussing my ex-husband, I would’ve assumed I’d suffered a head injury.
“So.” Rome looked down at me. “What the hell did you see in Bruce?”
I groaned. “Please don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
“Don’t.”
“He wears khakis, Josie.”
I buried my face in his shoulder. “Oh, my God.”
“Khakis,” he enunciated slowly. “I bet he had a calculator in his back pocket.”
“Stop talking about him.”
“The man looks like he gets excited about taxes.”
I laughed so hard I snorted.
“Probably does multiplication while he jacks off in the shower.”
“Stop,” I wheezed, struggling to catch my breath.
