23
Greta lounged among the overstuffed cushions of the couch, appreciating Hoodie’s paintings, in Cutter’s apartment. She’d won the fight over the material and color of the couch, but she’d lost over the size. The thing was humongous. As if it wasn’t enough that it was a sectional sofa, there was a fold-out sleeper unit. For the brothers. Heaven forbid they had to drag their butts out of the house after imbibing too much liquor.
Earlier in the day, Cutter had texted her, giving her exactly thirty minutes to wrap up her work at the office and meet him at his place. Sage’s giggles still rang in her ears, upon hearing that Cutter got his own house. Although she remained poker-faced at Sage’s gleeful display of hilarity, she was secretly giddy herself. They had come a long way.
Greta heard
