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phone.” He nodded toward my arm, his eyes warm and compassionate. “I hear you’re doing better?”
    “Oh yeah. Much.” I looked him up and down, trying to dislike him on principle, but failing. He genuinely seemed to care. Un-fucking-believable. “So you were there when the call came in about me?”
    “I was.”
    I flinched. “How bad was it?”
    “It was pretty bad,” Riley admitted, laughing lightly before motioning me into the living room. “Please. Let’s sit. I don’t want to tire you. Carrie would be angry with me.”
    Tire me? What was I, a fucking baby? “I’m fine.”
    “Still. Let’s sit.”
    Damn it, I should have been the one to invite him to sit, since I kinda sorta lived here. I should have been polite and mannerly, and invited him inside. Instead, I’d questioned him in the foyer like a dickhead. I led him into the opulent room, hovering by the couch awkwardly while Riley seated himself. I sat beside him, letting my broken arm rest against my chest, and gripped my knee with my hand.
    George came in with two glasses of whiskey and set them in front of us. He left the bottle behind and I knew it was because of me. One drink wouldn’t hurt, would it? I eyed it, knowing I wanted it way too badly and unable to stop myself from picking it up. I drained it in one gulp, turning to Riley with more confidence. I wasn’t used to this feeling. It fucking sucked.
    I felt inferior and incompetent in the face of such perfection.
    “So.” I looked at him again. He’d been watching me drink. When I met his eyes, he quickly looked away and picked up his own whiskey. “You’re a friend of Carrie’s, huh?”
    “I am.” Riley’s hand tightened on his crystal glass. “You don’t need to worry about me, man. I’m not after her or anything.”
    I blinked at him. “I never said you were.”
    “I just wanted to make that clear. I mean, she’s a great girl, and you’re a lucky guy.” Riley looked down at his drink and shrugged. “But anyone with eyes can see she loves you, and I’ve never come between a guy and a girl before. I won’t be starting now.”
    “You don’t get why she loves me though, right?” I poured more whiskey with a trembling hand. “You don’t understand why we work.”
    Riley let out an uneasy laugh. “I get it perfectly fine.” Riley reclined against the couch and watched me. I half expected to see criticism in his eyes. Or judgment. There wasn’t, damn it. “You seem like a good guy. Why would I question that?”
    “I’m not one of you.” I motioned down his body. “I’m different.”
    “Different is good sometimes.” Riley took a small sip. I forced myself not to gulp down the contents of my whole glass. “I’m not like her father any more than she is. Don’t assume I am just because I run in the same circles.”
    I set the bottle down and raised the glass to my lips. As I drank, I thought on his words. He was right. I was judging him, and that wasn’t fair of me. “I’m sorry.”
    Riley started. “Excuse me?”
    “You’re right. I shouldn’t make assumptions.” I lifted my glass to him and tried to brush my prejudice and insecurities aside. “If you’re a friend of Carrie’s, you’re a friend of mine.”
    He seemed surprised at my about-face. “Uh, good.” He shifted his weight. “How’s the arm doing?”
    I looked down at the sling. “Still broken.”
    “That’s unfortunate,” Riley said dryly, amusement in his eyes. “Maybe tomorrow it won’t be?”
    “Maybe.” I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “What do you do when you’re not here?”
    Riley took another sip. “I’m still in college. Upstate California, but I’ll be finished with my bachelor’s degree soon. Then next year I’ll be moving to Southern California for my master’s and doctorate.”
    So he’d be by Carrie and me soon. Fucking fabulous. “Let me guess, somewhere really close to the University of California in San Diego?”
    “Yeah.” Riley flushed and