My Brothers Best Friend [18+]

Chapter Thirty Six

We stayed at his parents house. Neither of us wanted to spoil the evening by going back to whatever state Matt had either put himself or the house in. 

Noah's father cooked us breakfast before sending us on our way to work - I had almost forgotten that Noah doesn't work Wednesday's until I watched him pull on gym shorts and a fitted t-shirt. He dropped me off before going to workout, promising not to go back to the house to approach Matt until we could do it together. 

I didn't have the heart to tell him about Matt's ultimatum. 

It's what's eating away at me as I try to keep five coffees balanced in their little tray in the elevator. 

I should've told him. He would've wanted to know about Matt's outburst - the either he's moving out or you are. Not that he meant it - I hope. He would always say shit like that in the heat of the moment when we were kids so I'm just going to assume this was heat too. 

Tonight. I'll tell Noah in the car and we'll deal with Matt together, whatever mood he's talked himself into this time. Maybe all of our glassware is now in pieces, but that'll have to be a worry for another time. 

The elevator dings. 

Balancing the coffees, I step over the threshold and beg walking towards Zach's office. He's moving out of it soon and into a bigger one a floor above ours. Chelsea will be having his, although unofficially at the moment, until all her promotion paperwork is actually passed over to her.  

After a quick run around the desks, I finally arrive in front of Chelsea. She's already working, a complicated spreadsheet open on her desktop and another similar looking one on the tablet in front of her keyboard. 

"Microsoft excel before your espresso?" I tease. "My God, you must be trying to impress the big boys upstairs." 

She looks up to me with a deadpan expression before faux struggling to drag the small coffee cup towards her mouth. 

"It's probably hot," I warn. 

"The burn will sooth my headache." 

My eyebrows raise of their own accord. 

She's not usually so dark. Sure, she dresses in fishnets and chunky boots full of straps and wears more eyeliner than cotton, but she's usually quite the ray of sunshine - at least when her mother isn't stressing her out. Or when her plants are alive and well (it's best to avoid Chelsea's desk if you notice wilting leaves on her office herbs - there'll be anger and tears will follow.) 

I eye her newfound work concentration at - glance at watch - three minutes to nine and try to work out what happened between our celebration drinks yesterday and now. 

My question is asked with a degree of caution. "Everything okay?" 

"Ugh!" She huffs. "Tony stood me up last night - and I told my mother that I was going on that date. I willingly told her. Can you even imagine-?" She shakes her head. "Men, Madelaine. I should just piss on them all." 

"If pissing on them helps," I offer meekly. 

"I need to submit these figures. Catch up in an hour? Oval room?" 

I barely manage to nod my head before she's shooing me away from her desk like some pesky fly that won't stop circling her space. 

Huh. More Mierro drama. Maybe Tony Mierro is just as bad as his brother, though perhaps in other ways. Where Damien is quite literally a criminal forcing children to run county lines, Tony is just his fuck-around brother who won't text a girl back until she's gone crazy waiting for it. (Alright, maybe Tony isn't as bad as Damien. Maybe.)