Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,68
think straight anymore.”
Ozzie moves in slowly and hugs me again. This time he’s not here to control me, he’s here to console me, and I can live with that. “I hear that happens to pregnant ladies. Just do me a favor, okay?”
I look up at him, resting my chin on his chest. “What?”
“Be gentle with yourself. I’ve never known anyone who is harder on herself than you are. Right now I think you’re going to need to have a little extra patience with everyone, including you.”
I look away, seeing through the back door that May is headed in our direction from the kitchen. I step away, putting distance between Ozzie and me. All that crazy girl needs is a hint that there’s something going on between us and she’ll be a thorn in my side I can’t dislodge. I already have enough of those.
“I’ll try,” I say, not sure I mean it.
The door opens and May steps out, full of her customary cheer. “You guys ready for some pizza? It’s getting cold.”
Ozzie holds up a hand. “We’ll be there in a second. We just need to chat for one more minute.”
May hesitates, looking uncertain. I don’t think she was expecting that answer. “Okay. I’ll see you guys inside. With the cold pizza.” She slowly backs away and shuts the door behind her, but she stares at us for a few seconds through the window before leaving.
I smile up at her boyfriend. “She thinks I’ve got the hots for you.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “I know. I tell her all the time I have no interest in you, but she doesn’t want to hear it.”
“I think she likes drama.”
Ozzie gives me a teasing look. “When she finds out your little secret, it’ll feed all her drama needs for the next year, so maybe I should thank you for taking the heat off me.”
I roll my eyes and turn toward the door. “Don’t remind me. I’m planning to hold off telling her until I’m out of the hospital.”
Ozzie laughs. “I’m not sure that’s going to work. She’s one of the most observant women I’ve ever met.” He gets to the door ahead of me and opens it.
I look up at him and frown. “Please don’t start getting my doors for me too.”
“Too?”
I walk through the door. “Lucky is treating me like I’m made of glass.”
Ozzie steps in but stops me with a hand on my shoulder, keeping me from going farther into the kitchen. I turn around and look up.
“Don’t be too hard on Lucky. He really cares about you. I’m sure he’s just trying to do the right thing, and you can’t blame him for that.”
“He needs lessons on how to deal with women.”
Ozzie shakes his head. “Those lessons won’t work with you, Toni.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ozzie drapes his arm over my shoulder as he walks with me through the kitchen. “You’re not like any other woman. You’re an original, but he knows that. You came to me for advice and this is it: Give Lucky a chance. I think he could make you happy.”
A warm sensation fills me as we arrive in the family room. Maybe it’s hope I’m feeling, I don’t know. I’m not ready to examine it too closely right now. His arm drops away and May comes over with a slice of pizza and a smile for each of us. I try to return the emotion, but the moment the fumes from the sausage float up into my nose, I know there’s no hope for me.
I shove the plate back in her face and turn around, running for the bathroom. I make it just in time to barf up my guts into the toilet. When I’m done dry-heaving and wishing I were dead, I stand and look in the mirror. Both Jenny and May are like statues in the entrance of the bathroom with their eyes bugging out at me.
I close my eyes and sigh. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jenny and May step into the bathroom and lock the door behind them. I flush the toilet, refusing to look at them.
“Okay, what’s going on?” May asks.
“Shush, let her talk.” Jenny is trying to reason with her sister, but I know better. She’s just as curious as May is and she’ll probably keep me prisoner in here until I spill my guts.
I don’t turn around, fearing they’ll use their gossipy wiles to trick me into telling all. “There’s nothing wrong. I have a stomach bug. I don’t