Seven
After leaving Lulu in Toni’s hands―there was talk of shopping, then toasting their shopping at the Olde Salt―Tristan drove to his house to check in on the roof repairs. The leak had started in the spring. He’d first noticed it while he was recovering from his surgery.
From his couch, he’d watched the amorphous stain on the ceiling spread and change shape. It was almost like a movie, if you didn’t need characters or a plot or a setting. There was dialogue, though. Or at least a monologue.
“Way to kick a guy when he’s down,” he’d grumbled at the stain. “You couldn’t wait until I got back on my feet? What’s that face you’re making? Better lose the attitude or I’ll paint over you like a bitch.”
Yeah, he’d come close to losing it during his recovery. If not for Bash and Toni and even
