The Happy Ever After Playlist - Abby Jimenez Page 0,38

over my eyes and sat in the tub with Tucker curled up on the shaggy bathroom mat.

Someone tapped on the door.

“Sloan? Mind if I come in? I have your coffee.”

Jason.

The lock on my bathroom door was broken, like every other stupid freaking thing in the house. Ugh.

“The door’s unlocked,” I mumbled. The bubbles had me covered from the neck down. I dragged the washcloth from my eyes and lolled my head toward the door.

Jason let himself in, leading with a Starbucks cup. “I figured you wouldn’t want to wait for this,” he said, looking at the wall.

“Thank you,” I rasped. “You can look. I’m covered.”

He turned to me and put the coffee in my hand. Then, instead of leaving, he put the toilet seat lid down and sat on it, grinning at me.

I smelled the top of the cup. I didn’t care what kind it was. It was coffee. I felt a caffeine headache lurking behind my hangover and I’d take anything. I took a sip, closing my eyes. Sweet nectar of the gods, it was my drink! A triple grande vanilla latte. How did he know?

“I saw an old cup by your easel. The drink was written on the outside,” he explained. “When I heard the shower go on, I ran out to get it for you so it would still be hot.”

I think I fell just a little bit in love with him in that moment. I got a murky vision of telling our grandchildren about the day Grandma almost drank herself to death and Grandpa saved her with espresso.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” I said, my voice husky in a way that told me I’d been vomiting.

“How are you feeling?”

Deathly? Mortified? Heartsick?

“I’ve felt better.”

Jason wore a gray Muse T-shirt and jeans. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his sky-blue eyes searching my face. I was puffy and hungover and this talented, sexy man had just brought me my favorite coffee after spending a night washing barf out of my hair.

Jaxon Waters washed barf out of my hair.

I was too sick for the embarrassment to truly settle in my bones. I accepted this information with a shallow understanding of how fucked up it all was and the knowledge that I’d dwell on it obsessively later while applying the appropriate mortification.

This was the end for us, I was sure of it. He had probably stuck around to make sure I didn’t choke to death on my own vomit. Now that he’d seen that I was alive, he’d collect his dog and leave, and I’d never see him again.

I was a disaster, damaged, a hot mess, and now he truly knew it. My living room was covered in my dead fiancé’s clothing, because yes, after two years I still had all his clothes. I’d called Jason while sloppy drunk and said God only knew what. What was there to like?

“I’ll make you some breakfast,” he said, pushing up on his knees. “Take your time.”

Then, to my shock, he leaned down and, with the biggest grin, he tipped my chin up and kissed me.

“Did you take the Advil?” he whispered, hovering just above me, looking at me with an amused smile.

“Um, yeah?”

“Good.” And he kissed me again, lingering for a moment. Then he winked and walked out of the bathroom.

“Oh. My. God,” I breathed, grabbing for my washcloth and dragging it back over my face.

I finally came out half an hour later, wearing a sweatshirt and leggings, no makeup, wrapped in a blanket and holding the bucket Jason left by my bed in a zero-fucks-given effort at not looking the way I felt. I figured I’d gone this far, why not go all in?

Jason sat waiting on the sofa. His face lit up when he saw me.

The scene was almost ironic. I would have laughed if I still didn’t feel so crappy. There was Jason, surrounded by an ocean of Brandon’s things, trying to be a part of my ridiculous, sad universe. And the funny thing was all this chaos was for him.

After our date and the kissing—which, let’s be honest here, was so out of this world it had probably ruined me for all other men—it had occurred to me that at some point, I might want to invite him home. That if I ever wanted to ask him inside, he’d spend the night in my room and use my bathroom.

Then I looked at my life through Jason’s eyes, and all I saw was