6

THE GODPARENTS

NORA

I MANAGE TO avoid thinking about Doc as my co-godparent until the night before. It’s been well over a month since our hookup, so I’m hoping things will be relaxed.

I can’t help but wonder what he thinks about this.

Please. Why would he give a shit? He’ll probably—

“Where you going, babe?”

I turn to look at the guy I just had sex with. It was good, but nothing to write home about. He’s gorgeous, and I enjoyed it—I even got an orgasm out of it, though it’s been almost negated by the way he just said babe.

I pull my shirt over my head before speaking. “Home,” I say, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not staying over?” he asks.

“Listen, Jason—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Jace,” he corrects.

Christ. He doesn’t sound annoyed, but I’m wondering why it matters. Okay, that’s horrible to say, but this was never going anywhere.

“Right. Sorry,” I say as I yank my skirt over my hips with my underwear at the same time. “It was good, but it’s not like we’re going steady, right?”

“Nah, but I figured round two in a bit?”

I smirk, crawling back up the bed and kissing him quick. “That’d be fun.” Not tempting enough, in truth. “But I have a long day tomorrow, and I have to get home.”

He agrees—a bit stupefied that a woman might leave first, perhaps? Regardless, I’m already halfway out the door. As I drive, the list of things to do before the baptism tomorrow—or at this point, later today—cycles through my head. Walking through the door of Cam’s apartment, I flick on a few lights. She’s apparently still out. I think she had a show tonight.

I go to the kitchen and fill a glass with water. My throat stretches painfully as I gulp it down too fast.

Why did I start thinking about Doc the moment after sex?

The thought irks me something awful, and I worry I’m going to fixate on it all day tomorrow.

But it’s not my day.

Right. The day is about that cute ball of chub, Henry. The cheeks on that baby are criminally adorable. Couple that with his mother’s gorgeous bright blue eyes and his father’s curly blond hair? He’s a heartbreaker in the making.

Anyway, I will have to do my absolute best to not be an asshole friend. I can fake relaxed and congenial better than most people—I mean, I did do PR for a number of years—so I’m not too nervous. It’s just that Doc gets under my skin too easily at the best of times. I can’t quite figure what gives him that power, but it pisses me off to no end.

The fact that I’m still thinking about it and not simply enjoying the fact that I just got laid make me growl out loud. At that exact moment, Cam comes in through the door off the kitchen holding a rubber chicken and wearing a neon pink inner tube as a skirt. Underneath is a nude bodysuit with a bikini crudely drawn on it.

This instantly lifts my mood. “I don’t even care what the circumstances of these wardrobe and accessorizing choices are. I’m just ecstatic to witness them.”

“You might be one of the few,” she quips.

“What happened? Did you bomb?”

“Not exactly. My improv group had a full-scale workshop-slash-rehearsal today, and it required costumes. This was the best stuff I could find at the dollar store.” She gestures dramatically to her ensemble.

“Frankly, I think you deserve an award.”

Cam runs up and hugs me fiercely before holding up the chicken and shrieking, “Thank you to the Academy. I will treasure this always.”

With that, she bows and scurries off to her room, offering a drive-by cheek kiss on her way. I smile and feel better after this brief interaction with my friend than I did after decent sex. Thank God Cam will be at the baptism and party with us.

***

Doc is chatting with a woman when I first see him. She’s blond, tall, slim, and keeps touching his chest, so I obviously hate her.

I shake my head. This is stupid. I have no reason to be jealous.

Because we have to stand next to each other during the ceremony, I decide to say hello and break the ice. The one time we’ve seen each other in the month and a half since the strangers’ driveway sexin’, he gave me quite a chilly reception. I’d come to hang out with Sophie and Henry since Fox was working an overnight shift at the hospital. Doc had been over for dinner or something and was getting ready to leave. When I walked in, he left without even acknowledging I was there. Both Sophie and Fox peppered me with questions, but I just blew them off.

With a deep, please-God-let-me-be-calm breath, I pull my shoulders back and walk over to Doc and his conversation partner.

“Hey,” I say simply. My tone sounds friendly, at least I hope it does. “I just wanted to say hello before we commit ourselves before God and all.”

A million hot needles prick the skin of my face as I rewind what I’ve said.

“As godparents!” I add awkwardly. So much for calm, cool, and collected.

Doc’s eyes are wide and, if I’m reading this right, amused. Well, it’s better than the last look he gave me.

“Hi, Nora,” he says finally. It comes across as piteous, but I could be digging. “This is my date, Rachelle.”

Of course he brings a goddamn date to a baptism. What the hell? Why didn’t I bring Jansen? Justin. Shit. What was his name again? Oh, right. That’s why.

Rachelle turns and shakes my hand limply. I’m tempted to squeeze it just a little too hard. You know, assert my dominance. Until I remind myself I don’t care. Nope. Not a bit.

“So nice to meet you, Nina,” she says.

I can’t quite discern whether it’s on purpose or because she senses a threat.

“Nora,” Doc corrects her.

I turn to look at him, but he quickly looks back to his date. I wonder if I was right in hearing a sliver of annoyance. “She’s Sophie’s bestie. We’ve known each other a long time.”

The way he explains how we know each other is obviously meant to throw off any idea that we’re romantically involved. That is, ever were involved. Not that we weren’t kind of—oh, forget it.

“Sorry,” she says, giggling a little. “I lost most of my hearing in this ear after a serious infection.”

Well, shit. “Oh, that’s horrible.”

She launches into an explanation of how she was on a tour as a traveling nurse in Peru. She picked up a parasite that nested in her ear and left the mother of all ear infections.

A bit stunned, I am left mouth agape, struggling for a follow up. “I’m so… Wow. That’s crazy.” I turn to Doc, and he shrugs. “You don’t think that’s insane?”

“She survived,” he says.

I move to her other side, presumably her good ear, and start asking questions about where else she’s traveled. We end up chatting right up until the service begins, and I only half-notice how annoyed Doc is. I consider it an extra treat. Then Sophie comes to drag Doc and me away to take our places.

The ceremony is actually quite nice. Sweet, even. I will admit to no one that I feel something in my ovaries when Fox hands Henry to Doc for the godparents’ induction. Seeing him hold a baby and smile… fuck. I automatically make the sign of the cross for the thoughts popping into my head (Thanks, Catholic upbringing!) and refocus on Henry. I want to call him Hank, but Sophie put the kibosh on that one.

I offer my finger to the drowsy baby, so cozy in Doc’s strong arms he’ll likely be asleep any minute. I can’t blame the kid. When his tiny fingers clamp around my pinky, I grin and look up to find a witness to share in the cuteness. Doc catches me, smiles, and holds my gaze for a second too long. My heart pounds a bit until I look away. I retrieve my hand from baby clutches, straightening my posture and waiting for my turn to rebuke the devil. Though it could be argued that I just did.

Sophie’s eye-lasers are boring holes in the side of my head, but I ignore her. She’ll corner me soon enough and make her ridiculous accusations about goddamn feelings or desires and shit. I cross myself again.

Afterward, everyone shuttles to the country club down the road where, as planned, Sophie’s mom and stepdad have popped for a super nice luncheon. With a full belly and my third Bellini in hand, I circulate, catching up with some of Sophie’s extended family that I know, a few friends, and, of course, Cam.

The heels I’m wearing are killing me at this point. I curse my Choos and sit down at an empty table to remove them for a break. As I rub at the ball of my foot, I feel someone approach from behind. His hand brushes across my shoulders and the skin pebbles slightly. Doc.

“Ya know, it’s a baptism. Not a bachelorette party,” he says, sitting down in the chair next to me. He twists it to face me directly.

“Yeah, I got that from the church and all the God stuff,” I snark.

His lips twitch, stretching wide in amusement. “Excellent. I just meant with the stripper shoes.”

“These are Jimmy Choos, motherfucker. I only wear stripper shoes to formal functions, like wakes.”

He smirks. “Right. Got it.”

“How’s your mum?” I ask. Sophie relayed that the operation went well, but after our last interaction, I was hesitant to contact him for any reason. “I heard they think they got all the cancer.”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. She’s good,” he says. “Mum’s a trooper. She told Lynn and my brother-in-law Jeff how excited she is to burn all her bras.” He chuckles lightly.

“She got a double mastectomy?” I ask. “Oh God, I hadn’t realized. Is she not having reconstruction?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t much like the idea of fake boobs—or another surgery. She says, ‘Fifty-seven years of tits is enough. Bras were invented by the devil anyway.’”

I laugh at his higher-pitched inflection, lovingly imitating her complaint. “I like your mom, if just for that statement.”

His eyes cut to me and his lips part, but our shared glance is brief. The moment goes quiet, and I let my eyes wander the room, knowing his remain on me.

“So, Rachelle seems nice,” I hear myself say. It immediately feels false, although she does, in all honesty, seem nice.

He clears his throat before I look back to his face. “She is.” He doesn’t sound super-enthused.

I force myself to sport a concerned expression and not a villainous smile.

“Fox introduced us, but I don’t think… I dunno,” he says.

“What?” I ask, possibly a little too interested. Back off. Why do you care?

He looks in my eyes. “I’m not all that interested, in truth.”

“Oh.” My eyebrows pinch together. “Then why did you bring her to a baptism?”

“She’s Fox’s friend as well.”

“I—”

“Nora!” I look past Doc to see Zeke walking in. “It’s so good to see you, gorgeous. How are you?”

“I’m all right, thanks. You’re a bit late, but here for the most important part—the party,” I say as I stand to give him a hug.

“God, who let you in?” Doc asks by way of greeting.

Zeke laughs, calls him a “fucker,” and they man-hug.

“You two seem cozy,” he says, his eyes volleying back and forth.

I can feel myself pale. “Just talking,” I say.

Doc doesn’t say anything right away. “I was making fun of her stripper shoes,” he finally offers.

“Those are Jimmy Choos, man,” Zeke says.

“How the hell do you know that?” I ask.

He laughs. “My ex was obsessed—had a closet of at least thirty pair, got catalogs in the mail and everything. I’m surprised she was able to pay her rent with what she spent on those shoes.”

We chat for a few, until Sophie interrupts. “Hey, would you mind heading back to the house and getting out the coolers and stuff? Fox and I are going to go have some pictures taken with Henry and our parents.” She rolls her eyes. “Margaret forgot to tell us she hired a photographer for the whole day. Not just the ceremony. I swear, if it takes one minute longer than half an hour, I will hose down the camera.” She grabs a bigger-than-usual boob and pretends to aim it at me.

“That’d be a picture to frame above the fireplace,” I tell her.

Zeke and Doc laugh. Sophie pivots and pretend-aims at both of them. “Watch it, gentlemen. No one’s safe.”

They hold up their hands in surrender.

“I’ll go make sure things are ready for the fiesta,” I tell her with a salute before waving at the guys. “See you all there.”

Sophie walks with me to the table where I left my keys and bag, chattering under her breath. “So things seemed good. You and Doc. Civil, friendly. You guys were talking for a few. Laughing, even.”

“Stop,” I demand as my feet do just that. “It’s all good. We’re fine.”

“Yeah, I got that. I just think he’s still—”

“Doc. He’s still Doc. It’s fine.” I lean down to pick up my purse. “Nothing is happening. We’re… okay.”

“What about that time after work?”

I freeze. “Who told you about that?”

“Paulie. I stopped by on the way back from Henry’s checkup to see you in drink-slingin’ action, but you weren’t there yet. I had the days wrong. Anyway, he told me he saw you two in the parking lot attached at the face. Either you were kissing or one of you is actually a parasitic alien.”

I snort, relaxing into a slump. “It… That was just a… Fuck.”

“Just a fuck?” She barely masks her amusement. That is, she doesn’t. At all.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, technically we had sex in some stranger’s driveway, but I meant—”

Sophie’s expression is more hurt than any kind of shock. “You rode the baloney pony in a stranger’s driveway and didn’t tell me?”

“One, never say ‘baloney pony’ to me again. Two, I don’t tell you about all of my hook-ups, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t.” My argument sounds incredibly stupid. I’m not even sure it makes sense. “We ended the evening badly, okay? I didn’t want to talk about it.”

She crosses her arms under her self-proclaimed milk sacks. “You like him. Don’t bother denying it. Why is he such a bad idea? I just don’t get it. He’s a really good guy.”

“He’s a player.”

“He’s the most honest player I’ve ever met.”

My mouth drops open, and I can’t argue with her. I roll my shoulders back and exhale roughly. “What about Fox?” I say, regretting it instantly. Fortunately, she just laughs.

“Nice try. As a matter of fact, you sound like him with that lame-ass attempt at redirection.” She shakes her head. “Two points to Sophie!”

“What game are you playing?”

“The one where I win.”

“Jesus, I’ll go set up the house.”

“Think about it,” she trills as she backs away and heads toward her boys. Fox is holding Henry, surrounded by their families. Sophie kisses H on the head and Fox on the lips, and I have to ignore the pit in my gut and rush out to my car before I can think about why.

The entire ride over, everything that’s ever happened between Doc and me cycles through my mind. We had a good time. Our chemistry is off the fucking charts. Pun intended. I’ve never had such intense sex with anyone. And not just intense, but fun and… comfortable. Then he suggested we go public, come clean with our friends that we were more than fuck buddies. His words. I panicked and called it all off. For real. I’d told Sophie we’d stopped screwing around months before, because I’d intended to end it. But Declan Wellesley is like a drug, so I kept going back. I kept picking up his calls, responding to his texts. He agreed to keep it under wraps simply because I asked him to.

I know he’s an honest guy. He was always up front. It’s me that wasn’t. Then I thought I was pregnant, and I made him the baddie.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

When I pull into the driveway at the beach house, I derail my train of thought and hop on a more practical track. I am exceptionally good at compartmentalizing when I want to, so that’s just what I do. I pull out bottles and am setting up the bar when Flowerkraut comes ambling out of the bedroom. She does not help to put out the chips, dips, guac, and other munchies, but I’ll let her pass. I stop to give her a scratch behind the ears and let her out to do her business. Fox’ll probably order pizzas later unless someone picks up a tray of tacos from Old Mexico.

Oh my God, I want tacos.

I dig my phone out of my purse and fire off a text to Zeke.

Z. Old Mex. This needs to happen tonight.

You are a fuckin genius. Marry me.

LOL your girlfriend might have a problem with that

IDK… you know Ash’s bi & I think she has a side crush. Fancy a 3some?

Get the goddamn tacos, OK?

HAHAHA Yes, ma’am. Zeke out.

Dumbass. He’s the most ridiculous flirt. I shove my phone back in my purse and spin on my heel to go get coolers from the garage. I jump and shriek when I find Doc staring at me, standing with his hands in his pockets just inside the door.

“What’s got that smile on your face, Beauty?”

Conflict rolls in my belly like an arm-wrestling match between kraken-sized octopi. One side of my internal argument is a melting, swoony mess. Maybe it’s the light, maybe it’s the suit, or the smile sparkling in his warm hazel eyes. Or perhaps it’s the relaxed set of his lips that makes him look so sinful and heavenly at the same time. I don’t know, but every part of my body wants to be as close to him as I can physically get. He is intoxicating, much like a siren’s call, and immunity is impossible.

The other octopus of the problem is… well, scared to death. Declan Wellesley is dangerous for my sense of control. Just the way he’s looking at me… I am exposed and defenseless. I’m terrified all the truth will come spilling out. If there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s to dig up that grave. I will be nice, civil, but I want to keep distance. Or I don’t. I’m not sure anymore. He’s making it really difficult to be resolute right now.

“Zeke’s picking up Old Mex.”

His eyes close in the wake of such all-but-orgasmic news. “Fuck. Yes.” He groans happily and takes a casual step in my direction. Maybe not so casual. “Can I help you with anything?” The way he asks is even less nonchalant. More suggestive.

Another step.

“Where’s your date?” I ask, straight-up serious.

He sighs, stopping in his non-casual tracks. “She got called in for a shift.”

“That’s too bad,” I say. Hmm, I sound a little playful. Am I flirting? How can I forget what I’m like when I flirt? I need a whiskey.

Yet another step. “Is it?”

“Isn’t it?” I ask. Who’s got the upper hand here?

“I don’t think so.” Step. Two more and he’ll be all up in my dance space.

“Why not?” I step back.

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Because she was never really my date.” Step.

“What?” Confusion and shock lift my posture to ramrod straight. I step back again and hit the wall. “You said—”

“I lied.” Step.

Gaping at him. Gapety-gape gape gape. With a side of WTF?

Step. “I wanted to make you jealous,” he says, emitting a gaze of such intensity, I feel pinned by his eyes and his eyes alone.

“You wanted to make me jealous?” I can only parrot him, blinking as I try to process. Avoid. More processing.

He laughs and steps forward, leaving almost no space between us. His hands brush down my arms to my fingers, lifting them up to his mouth. His beard tickles my knuckles as he presses his lips to them. My eyes close as my knees briefly wobble. Traitors.

“I was still smarting after last time.” His confession is quiet, but it’s echoing like loudspeakers in my head. I open my eyes in the need to see his face.

“Rachelle is a friend. She does work with Fox, and that is how I met her, but she has a boyfriend. Fiancé, actually. Cool guy—very laid back. Anyway, I asked her to be my buffer.”

I’m so overwhelmed, my head is spinning. “Why?” I want to ask more than why, but I don’t. I want to cry, and I don’t. I want to not want him so much. I swallow hard.

“Because I miss you. I wanted more of you. I want more of you,” he says. “I won’t take more than you want to give, but please… Consider, I don’t know, something.”

He drops my hands and moves his to my hips, pulling me off the wall and toward him. His body heat next to mine makes it hard to think straight. I look up into his face and watch the corner of his mouth pull up into that smirk that makes me crazy—good and bad. Good because, holy fuck, it’s so goddamn hot, but bad because it’s almost like I can’t fucking resist it. The will to want to resist it is barely more than threadbare.

“Declan,” I say quietly, not meaning to use his given name, but something about being near him makes me want to be softer, sweeter. Declan sounds sweeter than Doc. In my mind, Doc is the playboy.

“Beauty.”

“You fucker.” It’s half whisper, half laugh.

“If you ask nicely.” His lips are scarily close to mine. “Or just say yes.”

“Yes to what?” My voice pitches.

“Me. Us. Nothing too serious,” he says, leaning back to mark an X over his heart. “Spend some time with me. Or a lot of it.”

“That’s kind of serious.”

I don’t sound very sure. The swoony part of me is taking over, and it’s frightening. But his mouth closing in on mine right now is not. It’s very welcome.

His body pushes me back into the wall. My left leg lifts to wrap around his, entwining us.

“I’m not going to kiss you unless you say yes.” So quiet. Lips feather-light brush across mine, whiskers tickling my chin and cheeks. He nips at my lower lip, and my entire body follows as he pulls away just enough to make me insane.

I close the distance quickly and mumble into his mouth, “Yes.”

International Kissing Day had every possible famous kiss flooding social media streams. I feel bad for everyone who can’t see this one, because they know nothing. This is fire, it is hunger, it is sating and orgasmic all on its own. And despite my reservations, I am happy with my decision.

“Whoa.” I hear our friend Jonah bellow through the door as he comes in. “Bennett, are you setting up a kissing booth? You really don’t need to raise money for H’s college fund. I’m pretty sure Fox and Soph will sort that out.”

Doc and I turn our heads to glare at him, but our bodies don’t go anywhere. Doc’s left hand is still somewhere on my ass while his right has pulled my leg up over his hip.

“I’ve already bought all the tickets to the booth, so everyone else can fuck off,” Doc says, a wolfish grin on his face.

Goddammit, that is so hot. Sonofabitch.

Jonah’s wife, Rae, walks in carrying a massive gift basket. From this angle it looks bigger than her. “Who’s fucking off? What’s your problem, Wellesley?” she asks, teasing. “Oh,” she amends when she sees me. She sets the basket down next to the door. “Not a problem. Or is it? You need me to tear him up, Nora?” She starts throwing fake gang signs, causing all of us to laugh.

Fuck if I don’t love it when this girl goes street. For a hippy-dippy, kumbaya yogi-in-training, she can get brutal when she wants to. Though she did grow up in East LA and nearly ended up joining a gang before her parents moved them to Bodhi when she was in high school. We sort of bonded when we finally met several years ago, because we’re both mixed race. Her dad is Puerto Rican, her mom is black, and I am supremely jealous of her amazing curls, which at the moment, are out in an amazing loose ’fro style. My hair will curl given the right conditions, but then it just goes frizz. It’s very sad.

“Yo, girl, I got this,” I say, sounding ridiculous, but I go with it and grab his ass. He starts grinding on me, so I push him off, laughing. “Jesus Christ, Doc, not in front of people.”

I hear Jonah and Rae’s whooping dissolve into amusement and chuckles.

“Beauty, you love the possibility of getting caught,” he says in a low whisper, moving forward and leaning toward my ear. Every erogenous zone on my body pulses with heat, especially the main one. I feel my inner muscles contracting as if to say, “I’ll have his penis, please.”

I giggle and push at his chest. Not very hard, though. “The possibility is exciting, but you’re talking exhibitionism. Entirely different story.” I grin and playfully smack his face. He kisses me quick before I can walk away to finally go get the coolers.

I feel Doc’s eyes on me several times throughout the evening. Every time I catch him, he just grins, completely unashamed of staring. I roll my eyes, fight a smile—and lose. Despite my agreement, I’m still scared to open up too much.

Later, a bunch of us sit out on the deck. I’m slumped in a padded deck chair with a beer in hand. Zeke offers me what will be my third taco, and even though it’s no longer warm, I don’t care. His girlfriend, Ashley—who I do like, but am wary of—chatters on about her latest job. She does makeup on film and TV sets as a freelancer, though it sounds like she’s trying to push for a contract. These days, not many people are on staff, unless it’s a very involved, very successful TV show. Even then, you’re barely guaranteed the life of the project.

“So when Anna gushed over what a great job I did,” Ashley says, “I told her she should tell her producer to hire me full time.”

“Good luck with that,” I say sarcastically, but she nods, missing the joke.

Doc sits down in the chair near me. He leans down and picks up my right foot, already bare, and starts rubbing before I can protest.

“Ohhh, fuck me,” I say with a groan, not even thinking about the words until Ashley and Zeke chuckle.

Doc, however, says, “Not right now, what with people watching.”

I’m not even going to look at his face because I know how he’s looking at me: triumphant, cocky, teasing. I roll my eyes instead, hear him chuckling at my expense.

Only when I’ve just gotten my other foot into his crazy-good hands does Sophie interrupt. “Nor, could I borrow you for a second?”

I know just by the tone of her voice that she does not need my help in any way. I’m about to be grilled like a steak.

“Sure, mama,” I say.

Doc relinquishes my foot, but first makes sure I look him in the eyes with his hand on my knee. “Okay?”

Irritation bubbles under my skin, wondering how he’s picking up on Sophie’s true intention. It feels like privacy invasion, but then I think about how few men pick up on shit like this and feel guilty for my own reaction.

I nod as I stand, leaning down to peck his lips in a secret penance. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t move. My left foot needs more attention.”

Zeke pipes up. “I don’t know. Didn’t Daniel Day-Lewis win an Oscar for that movie? I’d say that’s plenty of attention.”

I give him a look like he’s a right imbecile. “Feck off, Morgan.” I raise a joking eyebrow at him before following Sophie inside.

She beckons me toward the spare bedroom and shuts us inside.

“What the fuck?” she asks.

I don’t have to wonder if she’s talking about me and Doc. I’m too busy wondering what to say as it is.

“Hey,” I say defensively, and then sputter for a moment. My posture is kind of “come at me, bro,” which might be fine if I had a follow-up better than “What?”

“What?” Her voice somehow goes shrill at an astoundingly low volume. “You and Doc eye-fucking the shit out of each other, like, constantly, and you’re asking me what?”

I have the sense of self to look mildly ashamed—not of the eye-fucking, which honestly, I didn’t even realize. I caught his gaze every now and then, but I wasn’t aware I was returning the “fuck me, please” look. Not to mention, she clearly missed the kiss before I followed her inside.

“Um, right, well—”

“Rae told me they walked in on you two checking each other’s tonsils and dry-humping like it was ninth grade,” she interrupts. “And you told me you hooked up with someone last night.”

“I did,” I say. “It wasn’t great. I keep forgetting his name, too.”

“I don’t care. How about you explain to me how you and Doc are acting all ‘we’ll be fucking as soon as we leave this party’ tonight? You barely spoke at the baptism.”

I sigh. “So I told you about the night after work last month, yeah? Well, along with what you and Paulie gossiped about behind my back, of course.”

She rubs the corner of her eye with a middle finger. “Yeah, but you said Doc walked away all pissed off and whatever. Did something else happen?”

I fidget, scratching at my ear and then picking at my nails. “No, not really.”

“No-raaaah.”

Okay, she’s reached her breaking point. “Relax, mama, I’m trying to explain,” I say, a little exasperated. Maybe embarrassed.

I’ve been swearing my everlasting hatred of Declan Wellesley for the better part of two years, only to pull a one-eighty in the course of a day—if you don’t count the slip after work. Of course, that requires that you believed I really hated him in the first place. Which I totally did. Maybe.

I step forward and encourage her to sit on the bed, where I pull up a spot next to her. “I texted a couple days later to apologize for jumping down his throat.”

“Literally? As in, with your tongue?”

“Rutty twat,” I hiss, smiling. “No, for the whole ‘why do you care now?’ inquisition that turned the situation into a shouting match.”

“You’re lucky that house isn’t occupied right now.”

“What? What house?”

“The house whose driveway you ducked into to get your fuck on.” Her face stretches into a “duh.”

“How do you know which house, let alone if it’s occupied?” I ask, shocked.

“I’ve passed that driveway several times during the day, and it’s the only one so close and hidden that y’all would risk getting freaky there,” she says. “Plus I know you were too busy reacquainting yourself with his hobby horse, but there’s a huge FOR SALE sign on the road past the hidden driveway. A SOLD marker went up a few weeks ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s empty,” I argue.

“Off topic.”

“You started it.” For that, I get a very hairy eyeball, like gorilla eyeball. Or yeti. “Okay fine, whatever. Point is that he never texted back, so I brushed it off.”

“Or tried to.”

“You want me to explain the goddamn situation or not?”

She bites her lips between her teeth and nods, contrite.

“Thank you. Anyway, when I saw him with a date, I decided to be all super mature and say hello, since we’re co-godparents and all that. It was fine—I liked her a lot, actually, but there was nothing spoken between Doc and me. Not really. Well, a little something, but I didn’t think too much of it. Then he was the first to arrive here when I was setting up and… Well, we kind of got back together.”

Sophie inhales like she will never take another breath in her life.

Before she can completely flip out (in a good way), I put my hand over her mouth and continue. “It’s casual. Nothing serious, but we’re—I don’t know, kind of seeing each other?”

She smacks at my wrist, but I leave my hand over her mouth. Because I can. So she licks my palm.

“God, you’re gross. Your fiancé has influenced you in the most horrible of ways.” I make a disgusted face while wiping her spit off my hand.

“Pfft,” she says. “So you and Doc again, huh? He’s no longer a massive prick?”

Two sets of eyebrows in the room rise—one after another—and then we crack up, because like her man, we are both eternally twelve-year-old boys.

“Seriously, though, Nor,” she says and grabs my hand. “You were so against the idea of him even existing, and then… I don’t know. You wouldn’t even tell me what happened that made you hate him so much—other than a pregnancy scare and him seeing other people even though you were never exclusive but you were in love and he wasn’t though you probably never broached any such subject blah blah bullshit bullshit bullshit.”

My wide eyes eventually stem her run-on sentence that seemed like it would never end. “I wasn’t in love with him.”

Well, I wasn’t. Was I? No. Not really. Right? Shit. It was the frenzy, the lust, the addicting sex. Then my mind spins a little, conjuring up tender moments just to prove me wrong. A soft caress, his finger absentmindedly trailing down the back of my arm. His embarrassed smile when I prove him wrong in an argument over Trivial Pursuit. His safe embrace. A protective arm in front of me before crossing a street. For the short time we were “together,” there seems to be a lot of evidence against me.

“Whatever—more invested, sorry.”

I snap my eyes back to her. “I got scared.” The words slip out before I can stop them. It’s not as though I want to hide anything from Sophie. She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister, and I trust her implicitly. It’s the risk of coming clean that scares me enough to keep the whole story under wraps. Opening up that Pandora’s box might be a complete shitshow, and I have a life to get back on track.

“Why?”

“The last time I got that close, it was a disaster.”

“That guy was off the rails—never wanted you to hang out with me,” she says. “Clearly a freak and not worth it.”

I laugh, but it’s humorless. She only knows the minimal. “Everything happened too fast with him, too.”

“Was there something else? He seemed kind of possessive.”

I am so damn uncomfortable right now, my chest hurts. Maybe I’m having a heart attack?

“You know if there’s something you need to talk about, I’m here, right?” She scoots close enough that I’m pretty sure she’s going to sit in my lap. Thankfully, this is not a strange occurrence, so I’m okay with it.

“Of course.” I wrap my arms around her and hug her. She does, in fact, lift herself onto my lap. “For real?” I tease.

“You love it.”

“I do. So can we go back to the party?”

“As long as there’s nothing else I should know? I feel like you want to tell me something else.”

I do, but I don’t think I can handle it right now. Just then, Henry’s cries come from the other side of the wall in their bedroom.

I owe you one, kid.

“Looks like I gotta nurse,” she says with a sigh and stands. She leads us out of one room and into the other. “Little man shouldn’t take long to knock out again. I’ll see you out there.”

I watch her gather her son, sit in the glider, and prep herself for the feeding. I smile, thinking how different life is for her these days, but also feel a pang in my gut. I’m happy to see her so happy. Do I want this, too? While I know I don’t need a relationship to have a child, the entire subject is swaddled in the comfort and draw of intimacy a partner can provide. The image of Doc holding Henry at the church pops into my head, and I get a nervous chill.

“Okay.”

“Don’t get arrested having sex on your car again, okay?”

“Bitch,” I say as I walk out.