“It just does, okay?” I finally decided on a wine-red turtleneck and newer-looking jeans. “Where’s Rafe, anyway?”
“Had an AA meeting. He’ll be home later.” Last year, Rafe had finally owned up to being an alcoholic, and gay—the main reason he’d hidden behind the bottle for so long while screwing every woman he could find—after making a spectacular ass of himself in front of me and Woody. It had taken a while to get us back to where we were today. I’d like to think we were all the better for it.
Five minutes later, I was dressed but I still had stuff strewn all over the bed. “I’ll put everything away,” Woody said as he grabbed a hanger. “You go deal with your obsession, but try to chill, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied and left the room.
* * * *