Page 175 of Studs Up
“I didn’t know,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Yeah, I figured.” Allen was relaxed and had come to terms with the breakup. I assumed so because he was the one that wanted to represent us for that shit show. “Didn’t understand the anxiety till now, though.”
“Yeah,” Holden said quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t tell you.”
“I think it all worked out.” Allen smiled and held up his hand. A gold band flashed in the light. “Married now.”
“That’s great,” Holden said, and I felt his body release some tension. Knowing Allen came out of the breakup and found happiness was a lot of closure for him. “I’m actually really happy for you.”
“Thanks,” Allen said, sliding his hand back into his pocket. “I’m happy for you. I’m glad you two figured it out.”
Holden smiled. I bumped his shoulder to mine.
“At least tell me Tilly’s still around.” Allen gave me a pointed look. Like he didn’t believe I was a plant lover. “I’d hate to think that she got trashed because of your new boyfriend.”
“She’s fine.”
“Wait,” I put up a hand to stop this conversation. “You gave him Tilly?”
“Tending to plants is a way quieter hobby than rearranging the kitchen at three in the morning.”
“Rearranging the kitchen?” I eyed Holden.
“I don’t do that anymore,” Holden said. “I call you, remember.”
“Right.”
“Anyway,” Allen said. “I’m glad I could be here for you today. And if you need anything, call me.” He shook my hand and then hugged Holden.
“Thank you, Allen,” Holden said.
“Any time.”
He walked away to the expensive BMW parked several spots away from my car.
“So, Tilly is pretty special, huh?” I watched Allen walk away, feeling a spark of jealousy over a fucking plant.
“He gave me Tilly to keep me quiet.” Holden turned me to face him. “You gave me Jazzy because you love me.” His arms slid around my waist, and he pulled me into him. “You tell me which one is pretty special.”
“Me,” I said. “I’m special.”
Holden rolled his eyes. Not everything was wrapped up in a neat little bow, but it would all be okay.
Holden
Even after all that, the scariest thing I have ever done was meeting Nolan’s mother.
“Is she even going to like me?”
“She already loves you.” He squeezed my hand and pulled me up the steps.
He opened the door and gasped. The entire house was packed from floor to ceiling with boxes candles and other miscellaneous items.
“Jesus Christ, ma,” Nolan carefully picked his way through the maze of glass tubing and ducking under all the hanging candles.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
If I had spoken to my mother like that, she would have clapped me on the head and left me in the rain until dinner.
