“Oh!” she squeaks out, darting back down the hallway as fast as she can. “Shut up!” she hollers as my laughter follows her.
“Hurry up!”
“Give me five more minutes, you impatient bunghole.”
“Did you just call me a bunghole?”
“Yes!” She slams the door closed, and I’m nearly certain she’s flipping me off, presumably able to hear me laughing.
I flop down on the couch, settling in for the next ten minutes—no way she’ll be done in five—and hit play on the paused episode of The Office that fills the screen. I don’t know why I bothered pausing it like I haven’t seen it ten billion times over the last year at Wren’s insistence.
She’s obsessed with the show, and since we’re now living together, I’m obsessed with it too.
After Wren finally admitted she loved me, we stopped pretending, and everything between us became very, very real.
To punish me for paying a year’s worth of her rent, she made me continue sleeping on Winston’s couch for six months instead of moving me into her house like I know she desperately wanted to do. I guess that’s the level of petty she was willing to stoop to for me butting my nose into her business.
I don’t regret it for a single second. Seeing my girl breathe easier was worth all the nights I suffered on that lumpy old couch. After six months of pure torture, she finally asked me to move in—and paid my mounting chiropractic bill.
And they say romance is dead.
Though everyone knew we were together—because they have eyes and it’s not like I ever tried to hide my feelings for her—Wren didn’t want to tell anyone we were official for at least six months, “just in case”…whatever that meant. Like I was going to change my mind about loving her or some shit.
When we decided to move in together, she made the announcement. Winston gave us his official blessing, and Simon’s reaction was boring as hell.
“Dad,” Wren started, voice shaking. “We need to tell you something.”
He peeked up over the edge of the paper in his hands then sighed. “You finally got your heads out of your asses and you’re officially dating, moving in together, blah, blah, blah. Congrats, kids. Just remember what I said about romps in the workplace.”
And that was that.
He was more shook up when Wren actually quit Slice to focus on her salon full-time. Mr. Carlton finally relented, and Wren moved forward with buying the house, even let me put a hefty down payment on it. We signed the papers just last month, making everything official. Not only does she have her dream home, her business is thriving, and I couldn’t be prouder of my girl.
I’m lucky, because nothing’s changed with Simon and Winston since Wren and I started dating. They treat me like they always have, like family. It’s nice not having to go through the whole meeting-the-parents-and-siblings rigmarole.
Everyone knows we’re not just boyfriend-girlfriend. We’re so much more than that. Our relationship has changed so much over the last several months, and not just because of all the hot sex we have now.
We’re better friends than we were before, and that’s saying something because we were practically best friends at one point. Now, though, there’s nothing we don’t share. We’re completely open. No secrets, no barriers at all between us, even when we’re not at our spot, the place designated for all that. We’re everything I thought we would be and more, and I’ve never been happier, that’s for damn sure.
The newest addition to our little clan, a chocolate Lab, comes bounding my way, tongue flopping from his mouth.
“Hey, Prison,” I say, picking the pup up and snuggling him into my lap.
“I can’t believe you named our dog Prison.” Wren leans over, placing a kiss on my cheek. “And get him off the couch before I beat your cheeks.”
“Promises, promises,” I tease, putting the little fluffball back on the floor. He looks up at me with the saddest eyes and I immediately pick him back up, not afraid of Wren’s wrath. “How could we not name him Prison? It makes all the sense in the world: Prison and Mike, Prison Mike. The creators of The Office would be so fucking proud of us for coming up with this shit.”
“Would they? Or would they think it’s the dumbest thing ever?”
I hold Prison out to her. “Look at this face. Tell him his name is dumb. I dare you.”
She leans in close to the puppy and whispers, “Your name is dumb.” He sneaks his tongue out, licking her face like mad. She shoves him away, wiping away the slobber. “But you’re still cute!”
“Are you ready yet?”
“No! I have to go fix my makeup now.”
She darts off down the hall, but I don’t let her get far, dropping Prison onto the cushions and hopping over the back of the couch to tail her.
“Nope!” I sweep her into my arms, throwing her small body over my shoulder with ease. “No. We are leaving right now.”
“Put me down! I have to look cute for the alien baby!”
“So you admit it—he does look like an alien!”
She grumbles, swatting at my backside.
“I’m not letting you down,” I say. “We’re leaving right this instant.”
I push out the front door, twisting the lock on my way out.
“You’re not even wearing shoes, Foster!” Another smack at me. “I need my purse.”
“No, you don’t. I have money. And spare shoes in my truck.” I think… “We need to get going. We told Drew we’d be there at five thirty and it’s already five twenty-five. We’re late.”
“You’re the most annoying boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
“But you love me anyway.”
She huffs. “Whatever.”
I toss her into the truck on the driver’s side, scooting in right after and locking the doors before she can make an escape.
Pouting, she crosses her arms and glares at me. “You can’t kidnap me, you know.”
“I know, especially because you’re a willing victim.”
“Ugh!”
Grinning, I fire up my old beat-up truck and head out toward Drew’s apartment.
Today is her first day home from the hospital. She refused to let anyone see her while she was in there, not even Wren, making us wait days to meet the baby we’ve all fallen in love with over the last nine months.
We ride in simmering silence.
She’s annoyed, and I’m slightly turned on by it.
We’re only about four miles from Drew’s when she decides to speak to me again.
“Hey, Foster?”
“Yes, Birdie?”
“I’m not wearing any underwear.”
My cock hardens and my bare foot slips off the gas pedal, the truck stuttering from the loss of pressure.
I adjust myself the best I can, clearing my throat. “Th-That’s, uh, that’s cool.”
Her hand lands on my thigh, squeezing. “Aren’t you going to check to see if I’m telling the truth?”
Hell fucking yes I am!
I pull to the side of the road, tires screeching against the pavement, rocks and dust blowing around us. I jerk my seatbelt off faster than I ever have before then reach for hers. When we’re both free from all restraints, I crowd her against the door.
My lips smash into hers, tongues tangling together like we haven’t kissed for years when it’s actually only been hours.
She moans into my mouth. Thank god my truck is old and there’s no center console to ruin this moment as she stretches her legs around me, straddling me, my cock resting nicely against all her warm parts.
We are definitely going to be late now.
“Someone’s loving this.”
I roll my hips into her. “Something is loving this too.”
“Don’t bring your sad, old dick into this, Foster.”
I laugh, squeezing her hips as she rocks against me and we shift positions. I capture her mouth again, pushing her skirt—Wren’s new favorite style of clothing—up around her hips. My fingers graze ov
er the edges of her panties and I—
I wrench my mouth from hers. “You are too wearing underwear, you liar!”
She grins at me. “I am.”
I furrow my brows, trying to push myself up, but she doesn’t let me get far, shoving me back down. “Why are you being a tease, Birdie? What are you up to?”
Her impish smile grows. “Because you’re easy to tease, Foster.” Her mouth connects with my ear and she whispers, “Oh, how the turntables.”
She pushes off me in a flash, flinging herself to the other side of the truck, firmly planting herself behind the wheel.
“You little…little…”
“Little what? Genius? Sexy genius?”
“Bunghole!” I explode.
She giggles, turning the engine over and swinging around, back toward the house.
“You are killing me. Drew is going to kill you. Don’t you want to see your godson?”
Her smile fades and she groans. “Ugh, fine, you’re right. I wanted to look nice though. It’s my first time meeting Beth as my dad’s girlfriend.”
“Is it though? They’ve been seeing each other for over a year now.”
“Yeah, but he just finally admitted it last week. This will be our first…you know…thing.”
“Wren, she’s worked with you for years. She’s seen you in every circumstance possible. Don’t make it weird.”
She sulks. “You’re so bossy when you’re right.”
Another U-turn and we’re finally on our way to Drew’s.
We pull into the apartment complex and Wren throws the truck into park, staring up at the building with big eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“The baby?” She nods. “He’s a baby—of course he’s going to like you. How could he not?”
“I don’t know. What if no babies ever like me?”
“Where the hell is this coming from? Are you pregnant or some shit?”
She balks. “Jesus, Foster! Just put it all out there. No, I’m not knocked up.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “But, you know, I’ve just been thinking a lot lately.”
“About?” I push.
“The future, us…what it’s going to look like for us. You’re getting super old.” I roll my eyes because we’re the same age. If I’m old, she’s old too. “We should probably talk about babies and marriage and stuff at some point.”
If I thought I couldn’t love her more, this moment proves me wrong.
She looks so…vulnerable asking for a future with me without really asking.
Wren Daniels is really, truly, head over heels in love with me.
And the feeling’s fucking mutual.
“Are you asking me to marry you, Wren?”
Her mouth drops open. “What? No! I—” She pauses then purses her lips. “You know what, screw it. Yes, I’m proposing.”
“You are?”
“Yes.” She climbs up on the bench seat, kneeling on one knee, her skirt flirting with showing me one of my favorite parts of her. “Foster Marlett, will you do me the honor of making me your wife? I promise to love you until I’m at least thirty, always let you order chicken strips, always give you free haircuts, and let you name our next dog anything but Dwight.”
I try to keep my composure, but it’s hard, everything inside me bursting with joy and love and so many stupid emotions I don’t know which one to feel first.
“Can I name him Kevin?”
“Are you kidding me? No! You cannot name him Kevin! What is—” She takes a deep breath, centering herself, then smiles at me sweetly. “Yes, my forever love, you can name him Kevin.”
I laugh. “I’m kidding. She’ll totally be a Pam.”
“Pam?! It’s a dog, Foster! Give it a normal name! Something like—”
“Yes,” I say, interrupting her tirade.
Her mouth drops open again.
I scoot toward her, pushing it closed with two fingers. “The answer is yes. I’ll marry you, Birdie.”
“Even after your shitty divorce?”
I want to laugh, because the last thing I’m afraid of is losing Wren.
We’re forever.
“Even after my shitty divorce, and I promise to love you until I’m at least thirty-one. I’ll only ever order chicken strips at Slice. I’ll always give you a big tip—just the tip—for those haircuts, and I’ll consult you on the name for our next dog.” I lean in close, whispering, “But I already know she’s definitely going to be a Kelly.”
She stifles a laugh. “Fine, fine. I’ll allow it.” She sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh my gosh, is this real? Did we really just get engaged? I didn’t even buy you a ring!”
“I’ll let you buy me one later, after we go meet our god-alien.”
“He is not an alien!”
“You don’t know that yet.”
“You’re right. I mean, Drew is kind of out of this world.”
She bursts into laughter at her own joke and I watch her, falling even more in love, as if that’s even possible.
She catches me, still giggling as she asks, “What?”
I shake my head, grinning. “Nothing.”
“No, what? Tell me.”
I slide my hand up her neck, letting my fingers curl through her hair, bringing her head closer to mine because I need to taste her lips.
She sighs against me when I pull away.
“You don’t have a piece of my heart anymore, Foster.”
“No?”
“No. You have the whole damn thing.”
“Good, because a slice of it was never going to be enough.”
Then I lose myself in her again.
Thank You
Thank you for reading A PIZZA MY HEART! I hope you enjoyed Wren & Foster.
Curious how Drew’s coping with being a new mom?
Find out what happens in I KNEAD YOU TONIGHT, coming 2019!
Keep reading for a special preview of I KNEAD YOU TONIGHT…
I Knead You Tonight Preview
Slice One
Drew
“You have got to be kidding me…”
Turning the key shoved into the ignition of my old beat-up car, I get the same result as the other four times I tried this—nothing.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I chant, trying yet again to get my car to crank.
Nada.
My eyes begin to brim with hot tears. I blink as they threaten to spill over, but I’m too late. The floodgates have opened and there’s no stopping the stream of tears running down my cheeks.
It’s not just because my car won’t start.
It’s everything.
It’s the mounting bills, the late-night shifts, the pure and utter exhaustion that’s creeping in.
Oh, and the fact that my stupid ex-boyfriend dumped my ass when he found out I was pregnant, leaving me to take care of our baby on my own.
My lips pull into a grin as thoughts of my sweet perfect little Riker sweep through my mind.
I don’t care how things pan out for me, just as long as my baby has the best life I can give him.
It’s crazy, you know. They always say the moment you hold your baby in your arms, your life changes. They say everything that was important before suddenly dims in comparison, all the wants you had simply disappear, and your entire life belongs to the heartbeat in your hands.
I never believed the hype. I felt him inside of me for months and months. He had already changed my life. How was it going to be possible that I could love him even more than I already did?
Oh, I could.
I could and I do.
When I first discovered I was pregnant, I wasn’t happy. I mean, who would be happy to get knocked up by some dude you’ve only been dating a few months, one you’re basically just dating for sex anyway?
Not one single person.
I was even angrier when he left me soon after those pink lines appeared on the test. He pulled out of our f
uture quicker than he ever pulled out of me.
Hence where I’m at in life.
Exhausted. Broke. Single mom to a healthy, beautiful three-month-old.
And I wouldn’t change a single moment of any of it.
I push my shoulders back and give myself a shake, wiping the drying tears from my cheeks and not letting yet another setback get me down.
Besides, I don’t have time for that. I need to get home to relieve my sitter, and no one is going to make that happen except me.
So, the city bus it is. Again. Ugh.
You’ve got this, Drew. It’s fine. You’re fine. Things will be just fucking fine.
They have to be.
For Riker.
I grip the door handle and reach for my bag where I stashed in the passenger seat. I grab my phone charger and make sure to shove it inside the black pit I call a purse so I can charge my phone tonight.
You know, the one that’s at approximately fifteen percent.
“Because why wouldn’t it be dead,” I mutter, shoving the car door open.
“MY DICK!”
A scream rips from my lips and I yank the door closed again, watching as a dark figure crumples to the ground right outside my car.
I jam down the lock button, the click deafening inside the vehicle. My heart hammers inside my chest, my heavy breaths fogging up the chilled glass in an instant.
The stranger lies on the ground and I can barely make out the curses slipping from his lips.
“Son of a bitch.” A loud, manly groan rumbles from his curled form. “This is what I get for being a fucking gentleman? Fuck this shit. Dammit, my fucking dick is on fire.”
I stifle the giggle that’s threatening to bubble out of me, not wanting to bring attention to myself. Maybe if I feign invisibility, he’ll go away.
A weighty hand lands on the handle as the man peels himself up off the ground.
I can hear his breathing through the window.
It’s harsh. Thick.
Or is that me?
“Fucking fuck,” he curses.
A cap-covered head pops up over the edge of the car, his head hanging there for a moment, another groan escaping his mouth before a familiar pair of bright blue eyes meets my scared, drab brown ones.
A Pizza My Heart Page 20
