“I’m sorry.” He bites his lip. “If you’re not mad anymore, does that mean we can still work on rehab?”

“We can still work on rehab.” I wasn’t clear about that with him last night, mostly because I was fixated on how good he looked in dress pants and also because I needed to get the Joey crap out of the way.

“Great.” He takes a step forward, as if he wants to come in, but I stay where I am, firmly rooted in the center of the doorway.

“Now isn’t the best time, though.”

“Oh. You’re busy?” His gaze moves over me again, his confusion apparent.

It’s understandable: I’m dressed like I’m homeless, not like I have something important to do. “I have this thing, and I can’t get out of it.”

“What kind of thing?”

“I got suckered into volunteering for something for my work.”

“Maybe I could help?” He looks somewhere between hopeful and unsure. It’s almost cute.

“I wish you could, but my stupid-ass ex-boyfriend signed us up for it, and then he invited himself over here to work on it. I’ve been putting him off, but it needs to get done.”

That hopeful expression turns dark. “Wait a second. The asshole who cheated on you is coming here?”

“Yeah. One of my suitcases got misdirected to Alaska when I flew in, and it’s now at his place because that was the forwarding address, so as much as I would rather he not set foot in my personal space, I could really use the rest of my wardrobe.” I rub the space between my eyes where a headache threatens to make my afternoon that much worse. “I need to get this over with. Once he leaves, we can do rehab.”

“How long will he be here?” Now he sounds frustrated, which would make two of us.

I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “Hopefully not long, but I’m sure he’ll find a reason to drag it out.” Unless I can find a way to get rid of him. I take in Bishop’s somewhat angry expression. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the douche ex who’s coming over or because it interferes with his rehab, but I plan to capitalize on it either way. “I have an idea . . . if you want to help shorten his visit.”

“Sure. Yeah. What do you need?” He gives me a quick, somewhat jerky nod.

“He’s supposed to be here any minute. Maybe in, like, half an hour you can come back with the pizza, and I can pretend like I forgot we have a session? That way I won’t have to be alone with him for long, because I know he’s going to try to plead his case for us to get back together.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Now he looks seriously pissed. And I’m anxious, because Joey will be here any minute and I don’t have an exit strategy for him yet.

“Never mind. I’ll figure out an excuse. I’ll get Pattie to call and pretend there’s an emergency or something.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can’t believe that Assface thinks he actually has a chance with you after what he did. I can message you in, like, twenty and see where you’re at or if you need me to come by sooner.”

“Are you sure?” He sounds angry more than anything.

“Yeah. I’ll put your pizza in the oven to keep it warm, even though it means my apartment is going to smell like pineapple and olives.”

“It really doesn’t taste as bad as you think.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He turns around and heads back to his apartment.

“Thanks, Bishop. I appreciate you doing me this favor.”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder. “No worries. I owe you one anyway. A favor for a favor, right?”

“Yeah, right. A favor for a favor.”

CHAPTER 17

PAIN-IN-THE-ASS EX

Stevie

Joey shows up less than two minutes after Bishop goes back to his apartment. I hate that Joey has the power to bulldoze himself right back into my life like this. He’s like a burr—clingy, prickly, and impossible to get rid of.

“Hey, baby.” He tries to come in for a hug, but I put my hands out to stop him.

“Don’t call me pet names.”

“Sorry. Old habits die hard.” He gives me what I think is supposed to be a chagrined smile, but it’s about as believable as a magic trick performed by a three-year-old. What did I ever see in this tool?

“Where’s my suitcase?” I ask as he slips past me into my apartment. I glance at Bishop’s door before I close mine, relieved he’s willing to help me out even though it’s stupid drama no one really needs.

“Oh shit, sorry. I knew I forgot something.” He lets out a low whistle. “Wow. This is a sweet pad. How come we didn’t rent a place like this?”

“Because we couldn’t afford a place like this.”

“Is Rook footing the bill or something?”

“Or something.”

He nods. “Cool. Wanna give me the grand tour? I bet the bedrooms in this place are huge. You got a king-size bed?”

“I’m not showing you my bedroom, Joey.”

He holds his hands up. “Whoa. Don’t get so defensive. I’m just trying to break the ice. I know you’re still holding a grudge, but we can get through this.”