Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) Read Free Page B

before I leave. I down an entire glass of water, swallowing my pills, and start a pot of coffee.
    I live in a pretty tiny, one-bedroom apartment. My one-butt-kitchen—a term Geoff introduced me to, even though two butts can definitely fit in here, as long as they are friendly—is just big enough to accommodate my eating habits. I suck at cooking, so my collection of pots and pans is minimal, and I live alone, making it easy to store all my dishware and food-stuff in the allotted cabinet space. My sink is usually full of coffee mugs that need to be cleaned, and my coffee maker is probably the most used thing in my entire apartment.
    Well, that’s not true. My camera is my most prized and beloved possession. I use it as often as possible.
    I decide to drink my coffee black this morning, hoping it’ll kick in faster without any added sugar. As I sip, I make my way into the living room. An obnoxious amount of light pours into the space and, without even looking at a clock, I know that most of the morning is probably gone. I ease my way onto my couch, curling my legs underneath me as I continue to nurse my beverage.
    Looking around my space, I make note of all of the changes I’ve been able to make this summer. I’ve lived here for just over a year. I moved in after I finished my junior year of college. Back then, it was sparsely decorated. Of course I had visions of what I wished it looked like, but no funds to make it happen. After a bit of saving, a lot of patience, and a few donated pieces from my favorite artsy men, I’ve managed to turn it into the eclectic and artistic space that it is now. I think it’s finally starting to reflect who I am.
    I bask in the mid-morning sun, waiting for my headache to ease up a bit. When I’m finished with my liquid breakfast, I suit up for a jog. I shimmy my way into a pair of fitted gym pants—the bright pink ones that stretch down over my knees—and then I throw on an old CSU t-shirt with my favorite worn tennis shoes. I look a little bit like shit, but it’s totally the look I’m going for right now. I want to repel people away from me. My only intention is to make it to my car without dying. Or puking. If I set a good pace, I can make it back to Old Town in about twenty-five minutes.
    After a quick stretch, I plug my headphones into my phone, shove my earbuds in, hit shuffle on my favorite workout playlist, and head out. I last all of fifteen minutes before I get a wicked stitch in my side. I push through it, hoping to sweat out some alcohol. Thankfully, I make it to my car in the time I had anticipated. I’m so relieved that I don’t have to jog back home, I decide to treat myself to a muffin.
    Which is not at all counterproductive.
    Last summer, when my sister Harper was in town for a visit, she introduced me to the best muffin I’ve ever had in my life. If I thought my pocket book and my waistline could get away with it, I’d have one for breakfast every day. But Brandon, the bakery owner, assured me there was nothing nutritious about his signature pastry. In exchange for his honesty, he’s my go-to when I want a sweet treat. Plus, there is the bonus of Sarah’s presence almost every time I drop by.
    When I enter Little Bird Café, I spot her right away. She’s laughing from behind the counter. Her whole face is lit up, her long blonde hair pulled into a side braid. She looks both absolutely gorgeous and maddeningly happy. Then again, why wouldn’t she be? She does what she loves everyday—subbing elementary school kids, or baking at Little Bird. She’s also got a kick-ass best friend, who happens to be my sister, and the man in her bed is just as delicious as his baked goods.
    For a second, I wonder if my craving is worth standing in front of that goddess in my current state. Before I can make up my mind, she glances toward the door and spots me.
    “Teddy! Hey, girl.”
    Her warm welcome makes me smile, and I realize I, too, have reason to be just as happy as