Once the seeds of doubt were planted, they grew, and I started questioning everything about our relationship.
Is this barbeque just an excuse to not be around me? Why is he kissing my forehead so much? Did he change his cologne? Is that a sign he wants change? Are we not stable anymore? Did he burn my toast because he doesn’t think about me like I think about him?
I mean, I know the answer to the last one—Zach sucks at breakfast—but the burnt toast is the least of my worries.
What really concerns me is the fact that in the last several years, despite all the steps our friends are taking in their relationships, it feels like Zach and are still just…well, us.
That isn’t a bad thing, because he’s great.
It’s just, for the first time ever, I want more.
I want to get married. I want to purchase a home that’s completely ours. I want to draw up our wills and get really damn serious about our future. I want to do all the husband-and-wife things.
As silly as it sounds, I want the piece of paper saying he’s mine forever.
I just have no idea how to tell him that.
Groaning at the juvenile thought, I give my head a shake and finish securing my hair into another messy bun—this one slightly cleaner than the last—then swipe on a few layers of mascara, doing everything I can to send those thoughts away.
I walk out of the bedroom just as Robbie clambers up the stairs.
“I swear, if I walk in here and your titties are hanging out…”
“What is everyone’s obsession with my breasts today?”
Robbie peers up at me, a devilish grin on his full lips. “Need any help with those?”
“Need any help with that grave you’re digging for yourself?”
He snorts. “Please. Like you could take me.”
“Whatcha doing up here, big guy?”
“Zach wanted me to ask if you know where his apron is.” His lips twitch at the question, and I know it’s because he thinks his best friend’s kitchen getup is as ridiculous as I do. “And where did you want the slip and slide?”
“Oh, is Xavie here?”
Xavier, Robbie’s son, has become such a constant in our life, it almost feels like Zach and I share custody of him sometimes.
That’s not me complaining. I love that little shit like he’s my own, which is good, because although I’d like to become Zach’s wife, that’s about as traditional as I get with life.
I do not want kids. Zach’s a big enough handful on his own.
“Hell no. I wouldn’t set up a slide just for that little punk. Between Zach, you, and Monty, he’s spoiled enough as it is.”
“Says the father who spoils him the most.”
Robbie ignores my jab because he knows I’m right. “He’s at his mom’s for the weekend. This is for us grownups.”
“A slip and slide? Seriously? Whose genius idea was that?”
Robbie’s mouth tilts up in one corner, and I hold up a hand, shaking my head.
“Never mind. I already know.”
“He’s your boyfriend,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, and who do I have to blame for that?”
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
Nearly five years ago, Robbie wrote down the wrong number for a client. Zach, being the good businessman he is, followed through on the callback…only it was me who answered.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Well, minus a naked photo scandal and a baby goat…or three.
It still amazes me some days when I stop to think about it. All because of one messed-up digit, I met the one person in the world who gets me on a level that astounds me daily.
He doesn’t care if I eat half a pizza in one sitting or devour a pan of brownies like I’ll never eat again. He doesn’t laugh—well, not too hard—at my hideous Ryan Gosling pajamas or care that I’d rather knit or play bingo than go out to the clubs even though I’m still in my twenties.
Zach Hastings gets me, and I’m lucky enough to get him in return.
“Are you really just gonna stand in front of me with a dopey-as-shit smile on your face having sex daydreams about my best friend? You’re a sick creature, Delia.”
I snap out of my haze and twist my lips up. “Not everything is about sex, Robbie!”
“Can you please say it louder for him? I’ve been trying to get that through his thick skull since the day I met him.”
Robbie spins on the stairs toward his fiancée, his hand coming up to capture her jaw. He runs a thumb across her plump bottom lip. “I don’t hear you complaining about all the sex, Monts.”
“No!” I shout, pushing past them. “Nope! Not standing there while you two do…whatever that is.”
“Foreplay,” Robbie says nonchalantly.
I groan because it’s like hearing a sibling talk about their sex life. “Gross. Just don’t bang on our bed, please.” Or do. It could use the action.
On top of Zach being attached to his phone lately, we haven’t had sex in weeks.
And I miss sex.
I miss my boyfriend.
Fucking hell, Delia. Quit being dramatic.
I hit the bottom of the stairs, plastering my back against the wall.
Your boyfriend loves you. Your boyfriend wants you. You’re just being dumb because you still haven’t had your period. It’s hormones. You’re freaking out for nothing. Chill.
Monty’s playful giggles penetrate my thoughts, and I’m brought back to earth.
I give myself a shake and paste on a smile.
I will not freak out today because there’s a chance my boyfriend doesn’t want to marry me. I will not freak out.
Will. Not.
Maybe if I say it enough times, it’ll come true.
2
Making my way through the living room, I grab the laundry basket Zach left sitting on the couch as I pass by and move into the kitchen.
Zach’s standing at the counter, head dropped, attention fully on his phone. He’s so absorbed in whatever he’s doing he doesn’t even acknowledge me entering.
I barely hold back the sigh I want to release. I swear every time I’ve walked into the room for the last month, he’s been on that damn thing. I get it, work is important, but it’s a Saturday for crying out loud. He can afford to put the phone down for a minute.
“Here. Heard you were looking for this.” I pull out the apron Zach’s looking for and toss it onto the counter as I head for the laundry room, where I drop the basket onto the dryer before closing the door behind me and wandering back into the kitchen.
“Sweet! Thank you.” He abandons his phone, wrapping the apron around his waist.
I lean against the counter, watching him, my tongue darting out to wet my lips as he ties the material behind his back.
“Ha! I knew you secretly loved this apron!”
“You’re wearing the naked chest of Ryan Reynolds right now.” I lift a shoulder. “How can I not love it?”
He grins at me. “Sometimes I think you love him more than you love me.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes. Now be a dear and go do host things with our guests.”
“Host things? Like what? Help them set up the slip and slide you asked them to bring?”
For a second, I think he’s going to try to deny it having been his idea, but he doesn’t.
“Yes. I want my turn, dammit.”
Shaking my head at him, I round the counter, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re exhausting.”
“I know, but you love it.”
“Not more than that apron.”
“I doubt that.”
“Did you feed your kids this morning?”
He grabs at his chest dramatically. “How dare you insult my competence as the goat-father! Of course I fed my babies. Now out of my kitchen, you evil woman.”
“You are something else today. No wonder I’m so worn out.”
“Ew, are you two talking about sex?”
&nbs
p; I whirl around to find my ex-boyfriend and my best friend standing behind us, their hands clasped together. Zoe’s crazy curly hair frames her face, nose upturned at the thought of catching Zach and me talking about sex. Caleb looks unfazed, probably used to the lack of boundaries we all have.
“How’d you two get in here?”
“Turned the handle. Duh.”
“So you broke in?”
Zoe lifts a shoulder. “Semantics.”
“I told her we should ring the doorbell,” Caleb chimes in.
“And I told you that—”
“You do what you want. Yes, I recall that clearly.” Caleb’s voice sounds flat, like he’s heard that reasoning too many times over the years, but his eyes shine with nothing but love.
If you’d have told me back in the day that my best friend and my ex-boyfriend would end up roommates and then fall in love, I’d have straight up told you drugs were bad and you should lay off them.
But here we are, years later, and they’re still madly in love.
It’s sickening…and I love it.
Caleb is so much like family now that some days I legitimately forget we used to date. Granted, it was only for six months in college, but still, it did happen.
I wasn’t even mad when Zoe came to me confessing her feelings for him. How could I be? It was Caleb—he was hard not to fall for with that stupid backward baseball cap of his, the very one he’s wearing right now.
“Did you bring ice?” Zach asks, still doing…well, whatever it is he’s doing in the kitchen.
To be honest, it looks like he’s just pulling random things out of the fridge and putting them back in a different order, but I’m not much of a cook, so what do I know?
“Shit. Be right back.” Caleb rushes out the door, headed for the ice I assume he left to melt in the car.
“How are the art classes going?” I ask Zoe, pulling the fridge open as she takes a seat at the bar, tucking her gorgeous sunshine yellow dress under her legs, a habit she’s formed since that one time our oldest goat Marshmallow tried to eat her skirt.
“Great. The kids are a hoot. Keep me on my toes, that’s for sure, except for that one little brat, Aubrey—so sassy.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to call the kids at the community center brats, Zoe.”
“What?” She cracks open the water bottle I hand her and takes a sip. “I call ’em like I see ’em. Kid is a brat.”
She can play tough all she wants, but I know Zoe would do anything for those children.
I thought she was nuts to take on the classes last month on top of her regular workload—running her own gallery full-time—but it turns out it was just what she needed to keep her creativity flowing seamlessly.
Plus, I’m sure it helps that Caleb runs the community center, which means they get to spend a lot more time together, something I’m certain is nice considering he spends a good portion of the year catering to all-star athletes at the local colleges as the top sports nutritionist in the state.
“You’re going to make a great mother.”
She lays a hand on her stomach, which is barely poking out at sixteen weeks. “Aren’t I?”
“Sarcasm, Zoe. That was sarcasm.”
“Was it really though?” she tosses back.
“I still can’t believe you’re pregnant.” I slide into the seat next to her, placing my hand beside hers. “She needs to start kicking already. I wanna feel her.”
“We don’t know if it’s a she yet,” Zoe chides.
“When do we find out?”
“Next week,” Caleb answers, coming back into the kitchen with two bags of ice in hand. “And it’s a girl. I know it is.”
Zoe lets out a huff. “Stop it, Caleb. You know I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
“I know, I know, but I’m telling you, I have a feeling. It’s a girl.”
“I can’t wait to meet baby Delia. I hope she has my eyes.”
Zoe purses her lips and swats my hand away. “That’s not how this works.”
“Yeah—if anything, that baby is gonna have my eyes.”
“That joke would be a lot funnier if you didn’t have a wiener, Robbie,” Monty says quietly as they enter the kitchen.
Robbie pales when he realizes what just came out of his mouth. “Sex with Zoe.” His body is racked with shudders. “Ew.”
“Eh.” Caleb shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? Not that bad?! I am pregnant and hormonal, and you want to say that sex with me is ‘not that bad’?”
Zach leans toward the stricken Caleb. “My best advice here, bud? Run.”
Caleb takes off as Zoe leaps from the stool, pulling her sandal off as she chases after him. “I will break your balls, Mills!”
“Run, Caleb!” my boyfriend screams. “Run like the wind!”
No one even bats an eye at their antics.
Monty slides into Zoe’s abandoned seat. “Thanks for having us over today, Delia.”
I point a finger at Zach. “This was all him. If I had my way, I’d be in bed with my boobies hanging free and a crossword puzzle in front of me.”
“Delia, stop. Your manners are giving me a boner.”
My cheeks heat as I realize how my comment must have sounded. “Shit. I’m sorry, Monty. I didn’t mean it like you guys aren’t welcome here—you always are. You just know how it goes sometimes when all you wanna do is snuggle in bed and not lift a finger.”
“Trust me, I get it. That’s me during the school year. Zoe was right—kids can be exhausting.”
“Are you two planning on having any of your own?” I ask, and then I cringe at my own question. I loathe it when people try to stick their nose in my business, and here I am doing the same to Monty.
A smile lights her face. “We are.”
“We’re just practicing right now, but the real trying starts on our wedding night,” Robbie explains, bouncing his brows up and down. “Have you two settled on what you want to do about kids yet?”
“We should probably discuss marriage before we jump that far into things, don’t ya think?”
Even I hear the bite in my words.
Zach freezes for a moment before he continues shoving things back inside the fridge, pretending I didn’t just sound like the biggest bitch in the world.
It’s weird when you think about it. Of all the subjects Zach and I have covered in our years together, marriage isn’t one of them. Though I’ve never dreamt of my wedding or anything like that, I always assumed one day my boyfriend of many years would ask, I’d say yes, and the rest would be history.
Nearly five years later, that moment hasn’t come, and with every day that passes, I find I want it more and more.
I just don’t know if he does too.
I clear my throat. “I mean, no, we haven’t really talked about it.”
“I’m sure Zach’s just waiting for the perfect moment,” Monty says quietly, bumping her shoulder into mine. “Unlike his best friend.”
“Hey now! I thought the way I proposed was super romantic.”
“Yes, Robbie, because it’s always been my dream to be proposed to in the middle of One Hole Donuts over breakfast.” Monty rolls her green eyes. “Not.”
“Got you to say yes, didn’t I?”
Color steals up her cheeks as she mutters, “Fair point.”
“You proposed over donuts? How did I not know that? That’s romantic as shit!”
“Shit is the least romantic thing in the entire world, Delia.”
I pick up the hand towel sitting on the counter and chuck it at my smartass partner. “Shut up, Zachary. You know what I meant.”
“Yes, that you think shit is romantic, and that’s why I haven’t proposed yet. We still have some serious work to do with you.”
My heart pitter-patters when the word yet leaves his lips.
Does that mean he’s planning to propose?
Why I am so hung up on this? Ugh! This isn’t me. Knock it off, Deli
a.
“Oh, I heard a yet in there, man! Does that mean you’re going to pop the question soon?”
Zach glowers at his best friend. “Shut up and come help me with the grill.”
Robbie pretends to zip his lips shut, attempting to hide a snicker as he follows a scowling Zach out to the back patio.
Caleb’s hot on their heels, sliding the door closed as an out-of-breath Zoe claws at the handle, trying to push it back open. She’s no match for Caleb’s strength, and he wins effortlessly, the big goon not giving his pregnant girlfriend any leeway. He stands at the door, literally patting himself on the back and cheering for being able to lock her out. She slaps at the glass and he begins a victory dance, pressing his denim-clad ass against the door.
Naturally, Zach and Robbie join in, and suddenly there are three asses pressed against the pane.
“Keep shaking that ass, Zach! You’re on window-cleaning duty next!”
“Yeah, keep shaking it.” Monty stares at the show, hand tucked under her chin, thoroughly enjoying the boys’ shenanigans.
Zoe huffs and puffs her way back into the kitchen, pulling the fridge open and grabbing a bottle of water.
“Sure.” I wave a hand at her. “Help yourself.”
“I will. I’m dying of thirst and you’re a terrible host, not offering me anything to drink.”
I point to the half-empty bottle sitting on the counter. “Do you not remember drinking half of that?”
“Oops.” She shrugs. “Pregnancy brain.”
“You can’t use that excuse for everything.”
“You try having a tiny foreign being sucking all your brain juice from your body 24-7!”
I scrunch my nose. “Ew. Pass.”
“You really don’t want kids, huh?” Monty observes.
“I really don’t.”
“You and Zach are so good with Xavie though.”
“I know. I love kids…when I can give them back to their parents. We’re good playing the fun uncle and cool aunt. We don’t need any rug rats of our own. Besides, Zach’s enough to deal with, and we have the goats. They’re a handful. The last thing we need is a tiny human adding to the mess.”
“I get it.” She holds her hands up. “Trust me. I think it’s kind of cool you’re both in agreement over it and know what you want.”
Texting (The Complete Series Page 89
