of this girl’s life. On behalf of my entire fucking gender, I was going to prove to both April and Adi that there were a few good men out there.
I might not always be one of them, but I could be one today—for the sake of this one family who’d crawled underneath my skin somehow and refused to fucking leave.
Chapter 8
APRIL
“Could you pass me the parmesan please?” Katie asked Adi, who had been crowned as her executive assistant in the kitchen.
Adi hopped off her seat, putting two fingers to her forehead to salute my sister as she headed for her fridge. She quickly located the cheese and took it to her aunt, who grated it over whatever dish she was cooking for lunch.
Katie and Adi made a magnificent team in the kitchen, and while I always offered to help, it was nice not to be the one doing the cooking every once in a while. All I had to do was sip my tea at the table and keep them company.
“Adi’s starting physical therapy tomorrow,” I said as I watched them work. “The doctor says we’re going to have to work hard but that she’ll be back to her old self in no time.”
“That’s great news.” My sister grinned, glancing at Adi while stirring something into her fancy concoction. “Are you looking forward to it, sweetheart? You must be eager to get started.”
Adi nodded, her eyes lighting up as she spoke about our day on Tuesday. “It’s going to be so cool to get to spend time there. You should see the place. It’s awesome. Hunter and Doctor Chris are pretty cool, too. I like them.”
“Who’s Hunter and Doctor Chris?” she asked before bringing the spatula to her lips and smiling softly once she’d tasted the sauce on it. “I think I’ve finally perfected this recipe.”
“Good for you,” I said, but my sister didn’t miss my sarcasm. Katie and I were opposites in every way except for one. We were both single and planning on keeping it that way.
I’d always been the loud, brash one with the broken filter while she was refined—or uptight, as I liked to call her—and had so many layers of filters over her mouth that she never said a single word wrong.
Katie wore the finest linens she could afford on her salary as the editor of an online fashion magazine. She worked from her medium-sized but well-appointed apartment but still wore her hair up every day and belonged to a book club that didn’t just get together to drink and talk shit.
Like every girl in their group actually read every book and then discussed it at length. It was ridiculous. And really, really boring.
I, on the other hand, liked faded blue jeans and leather jackets from thrift stores. My apartment was smaller than hers and furnished from garage sales and hand-me-downs. I cursed like a man, drank beer like a frat boy, and hadn’t yet met a book I’d managed to finish.
Having Adi had calmed me down and forced me to grow the hell up, but I liked to think motherhood hadn’t changed the core of who I was. It had just forced me to be the more responsible version of that person.
But despite our differences, Katie was my best friend aside from Luna. She glared at me for my comment about her perfect recipe but then brought the subject back to Adi’s therapy. “I’m assuming this Chris is going to be treating you, and this Hunter person works for him?”
“Chris was also the doctor who recognized Adi on the day of the accident,” I said, and she nodded. “Hunter was the one who called me.”
“So you know them then?” She kept stirring and tasting as she went, but I knew she was paying close attention to me. Her back was ramrod straight, which was this weird tell she had when she was listening.
“I don’t know them per se. I’ve met them a few times, and I’ve obviously spoken to them since the accident, but I wouldn’t say I know them.”
She cocked her head as she sprinkled some pepper into the pot. “Is the doctor any good?”
“Yeah, he’s the best,” I said. “I’ve heard so much about him and now I know why. His reputation precedes him, but it’s a good one.”
Katie whirled around and pointed her wooden spoon at me. “Are you gushing, April Adams?”
“No.” My eyes widened as I pressed my hand to my chest. “Who are you talking to? I’d never gush