THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,164

I chose the first option because self-pity isn’t something I know how to do for long amounts of time.

Penelope sniffles. “Thank you for meeting with me instead of talking on the phone. You must think I’m crazy. Thank you,” she repeats.

Standing, I clasp her hands in mine. “I will win this for you. Please don’t be fearful. That’s what he wants.”

She smiles as a tear falls down her face. The sight makes me uneasy. Emotion in general makes me uneasy these days. Sometimes I think throwing myself into my work, but staying emotionally detached, is the best way to score a victory. Ushering her forward, we make our way to the large foyer by my front door.

When I sling it open Steven is standing there, a large, silver, destroyed doorknob in one hand and a take-out bag in the other. The smart-ass smile on his chiseled face is the most comforting thing in my world on most days. I reckon the fact that most everything else on him is chiseled is sort of nice too.

Penelope smiles at me and moves around Steven and down the driveway. “I’ll call you later, Penny,” I yell after her, my work voice still firmly in place. To Steven I say, “You’re early.”

He rolls his eyes and drops the broken piece of door in my hand, like a cat handing off a dead mouse. “This worried me. I figured you’d want breakfast at normal breakfast time,” he explains, moving around me and sauntering into my kitchen like he’s at home. He sort of is. We spend a lot of time together.

In the beginning it was too hard to be his friend because of the familiarity. Familiarity is what forces a smile when I see an old friend, but it’s also what forms a black pit in my stomach. It coils deep and doesn’t relent. SEALs are all pretty similar as a general rule. Stone and Steven have their differences, but for the most part they are jarringly alike. The humor is what always reeled me toward Steven. Who doesn’t want to laugh? A better question is who doesn’t want to laugh after their husband dies? His comic relief is always welcome in the dark corners of my world.

I join him at the bar, pulling a stool next to him, and dive into the breakfast burrito made to my exact preferences.

“I have the tools in the garage to fix the door. I picked up a new knob this morning. Did you check the surveillance footage yet?” he says around a mouthful of food. I tilt the burrito toward him, swallowing a huge bite.

“Thank you. Perfect,” I say. He smiles and nods. “I pulled the footage and set it out for Phillipe to go through when he gets here Monday morning.” I take another bite, kicking my heels off to the side. I always uphold a certain look when I’m working, be it at home or out and about. When I’m with my friends, I can relax a little bit. I can be myself. “One. Two. Or Three,” I ask jokingly. I mean, I definitely want to know, but I kind of don’t too.

Steven chuckles, pushing his lips to one side, deciding if he should lie or be honest. We talk about everything. He has absolutely no reason to lie to me. He sighs. “It was two. I broke it off, though. She’s a little more clingy than I’m comfortable with. She knows it, too. I think last night was an ode to goodbye.” He watches my hands and fingers as he talks. I’m not sure why, but hands are his thing. I wiggle my fingers and his gaze darts up to meet mine.

“You’re down to two? No way. Shock and awe, Steven Warner. Shock and awe. I bet you’ll mend fences with her.” This knowledge makes me happy for some unknown reason. I actually hope he doesn’t get back together with her. I guess it’s one less girl I have to worry about sharing Steven with. That thought excites and confuses me even more.

After seeing pretty much everything in my career, I don’t judge anyone for anything anymore. If someone is happy and not breaking any laws, and all parties are well informed, let them be happy. There’s no deceit in what Steven does. I guess I’ve just come to realize that it’s his normal for whatever reason. Love isn’t his thing. Sex is. Dating normally never met his needs as far as I can tell.

“You