by CM Foss
“So what is it that you want?” I asked. “You want to what? Date?”
He shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I certainly don’t want you with anyone else.” He looked at me pointedly. “And I don’t think you want to be either.”
“Date long distance…”
“We’re having a baby long distance,” he argued. “How hard can dating be?”
He had a point.
“But we’ve never even been on a date. We can’t even say we’re dating because it’s never happened. We have to use something like… special friends.”
He blinked rapidly. “You want to be special friends with me?”
I nodded.
“You honestly want me to introduce you to my parents as my special friend?”
I held out my hand. “Okay, that sounds a little weird. You can just say Ivy.”
He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. I bit my lip to hide my smile. I’d be lying if I said that riling him up wasn’t a little fun.
“Look,” I went on, “I think we should get to know each other, really well. Not so much in the dating sense, because everybody lies when they’re dating. I want to know what I’m getting myself into. I want to know what makes you… you. The quirks and the flaws and the bad habits. If we’re dating, you’ll hide all that stuff, and I don’t want to be surprised later.”
He was chewing on the inside of his lip, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.
“Is the special part of the friendship the part that’s naked?”
I started to laugh, shaking my head. “Well, since we’re friends, and we don’t have to pretend to be something we’re not, and I can’t eat bacon or drink wine… then yes. Yes, it is.”
“All right, blondie. I’ll let you pretend. Yes, I’ll be special friends with you. But I’m warning you now, it’s going to be very special, as often as possible, until you’re begging to be my”—he widened his eyes—“girlfriend.”
I shuddered and he pinched the inside of my thigh sharply, making me jump and squeak.
Chapter 20
Patrick
“Ready?” I looked down over my shoulder as we rode the elevator up to my parents’ condo.
“It’s telling that you have to keep asking me that question.”
My Ivy was back, standing confident and comfortable in her own skin, not fussing with her hair or straightening her clothes. And she didn’t need to. Her hair was loose and wavy, in perfect golden disarray. In the car she’d changed into an oversized pink sweater that hung off one shoulder. Her jeans were dark and fitted, flaring out over her boots. Next to those boots was the bag of vegetables she’d brought from home. The quirk factor was through the roof, and I loved it. I knew my parents would appreciate it too. My mom always said that quirks were her favorite parts of people. If that was true, she was going to have so many favorite parts of Ivy.
I raised my hand to let my fingers trail down her neck and turned her to face me. Her stunning emerald eyes were filled with humor and a little mischief. Yeah. She was back. Cradling her cheek, I bent slowly, cautiously, to press a soft kiss to the lips I’d been craving. At their first touch, I inhaled sharply, feeling my pulse fly out of control as my body curved toward her. She arched forward, pressing her softness against me. I tightened an arm around her waist, holding her firm while my lips continued to explore. The moment I felt her tongue delicately run along my upper lip, I was gone. I tangled my fingers in her hair, tugging her closer, unable to get close enough. She groaned softly as I nipped her lower lip and soothed it with my tongue. I wanted to devour her, strip her down, and bury myself in her.
Then the fucking elevator dinged and the doors swung open. I slowed our lips to slow our breaths, finally pressing a long kiss to her forehead and sighing. We walked out, hand in hand. I looked over at her to see her cheeks flushed and a small smile on her face. I gave her fingers a squeeze and winked at her.
“That was special.”
Her smile grew wider.
I took a deep breath when we got to my parents’ door. I have to admit, I was barely ready. And I agreed with Ivy. I was a little embarrassed. I never really thought I’d be in the baby-momma scenario. But there I was. My parents were great people but very conservative and traditional. We’re talking Texas, after all.
Before I could reach for it, the door flew open and my nephews ran out, barreling straight into my legs and hollering like heathens.
I was forced to let go of Ivy’s hand and step backward to brace myself as they pummeled me.
Laughing, I finally pried myself loose and held each of them at a distance.
“You guys got bigger,” I said, panting.
They grinned widely, their smiles matching perfectly except for the small chip in Abe’s front tooth.
I looked at Ivy who was clearly amused by their antics.
“Nathan, Abe, this is my”—I paused ever so briefly—“friend, Ivy.”
She immediately reached out to shake both their hands to greet them.
Nathan waggled his eyebrows around. “Friend? Or special friend?”
Ivy smirked at me, then looked back at Nathan with a nod. “You and I are gonna get along just fine.”
His smile got even bigger, but a crash and a yell from inside caught his attention. He and Abe exchanged a guilty look, and they both took off back inside.
Ivy still looked smug.
“I wouldn’t be proud of that,” I said. “Having the same vocabulary and frame of mind as a prepubescent boy is nothing to flaunt.”
I swatted her on the rear before she could open her smartass mouth and nudged her inside.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, our teasing attitudes seemed to drain away. Ivy filled her lungs with air and looked up into my eyes. Hers still carried a glint of humor, but the way she kept chewing on her lip gave away her nerves. I took pity on her and pressed a kiss to her hair, feeling her sigh into me. It soothed me too.
When we touched, we were okay.
I figured my family was waiting in the kitchen with bated breath, but I appreciated their restraint in not meeting us at the front door. We stepped around the corner to see Abe and Nathan cleaning up a pile of Legos under my sister’s irritated glare. That explained the crash and yell from earlier.
I cleared my throat, and all eyes turned. Everyone jumped to their feet and started yammering at once. So much for restraint.
Ivy’s eyes widened but so did her smile. My mom hugged her and then my dad hugged her and then Annie hugged her, and Rob saved us from any more awkward by shaking her hand.
Afterward, there was a moment of expectant silence as the dust started to settle.
Ivy squeezed my hand and started to speak. “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. Thank you for having me and… for wanting to meet me. I know this situation might not have been what you dreamed of. Ever.” She laughed lightly, a blush adding to the pink in her cheeks. “But you have a wonderful son, and we’re going to do the best we can. I’m not sure if Patrick told you, but I don’t have any family. So I’m just really happy that our baby”—she glanced over at me—“has all of you.”
With that, she pulled one of the ultrasound pictures out of her back pocket and handed it to my mom, who was dabbing at her misty eyes. My dad leaned over her shoulder to look, with suspiciously shining eyes as well.
“A boy?” He grinned and Ivy nodded at him.
My mom looked back at Ivy. “First of all, please call us Wendy and Henry. I can’t say, with all honesty, that this scenario was one we planned on. But you two are adults, and I’m sure you’ll find your own way. Whatever does happen between you two, you’re family now. And we want you to always feel comfortable here and always welcome.”
�
�Thank you,” Ivy said quietly, and I just barely heard her hide a sniffle.
I smiled at my mom, grateful at her ability to put others at ease, myself included. Not once since my announcement over the phone had she lectured or even sounded disappointed. She simply accepted the news with grace and even excitement. She did love a grandbaby.
“All right”—she clapped her hands—“now that that’s all settled, Patrick tells me you are amazing in the kitchen.”
Ivy smiled sheepishly. “I can hold my own. And I brought you some vegetables from my garden.”
“You carried them on the plane?”
Ivy nodded and shrugged. At least I wasn’t the only one who thought it was weird.
“Well, I know you’re on a sort of vacation, but would you be willing to show Annie and me a few tricks, and we’ll get dinner ready while the boys take your bags into your rooms?” She looked pointedly at me. “You’re in the blue room, Ivy in the green room.” I refrained from rolling my eyes. There was no arguing on my parents’ separate bedroom rules. She turned back to Ivy. “There’s no better way to get to know someone than by cooking with them.”
Ivy grinned, the sparkle back in her eyes.
“I couldn’t agree more. Lead the way.”
Ivy
“So”—I tied an apron around my waist—“what are we making?”
“Meatloaf,” Wendy said as she rustled through the refrigerator.
I heard Annie sigh behind me, and I glanced over at her. Her dark hair was smooth and precise. She was impossibly tiny for having had those giant twin boys, polished, and high society.
Until she spoke. “Did you know that every country has its own version of meatloaf?” Her Texas twang rang clear.
Wendy shook her head slightly, and I stifled my laugh. “No. I’ve never thought about it.”
“It’s true. And the American version is literally a loaf of meat. My brother’s the only one who likes it.”
I watched Patrick’s mom plopping a trio of ground meats into a bowl and start mixing it together.
“You always eat the bacon,” Wendy said. “But don’t worry, Ivy. Patrick warned us. We’re leaving it off this time.” She winked at me, and I smiled gratefully.
Annie’s eyes were scrunched together in disgust. I nodded toward the bowl.
“Not your favorite?”
“Definitely not. I’d rather just have a burger.”
“Could I change your mind?”
She just shrugged. Wendy turned to me with a smile.
“Patrick is pretty picky about his meatloaf. You sure you wanna take this on?”
“Oh, I’m sure. Do you mind if I dig around for some things?”
“Be my guest.”
We continued chatting as I pulled out the onion, carrots, and celery from my bag and began chopping them. Annie and Wendy filled me in a little on the family. I already knew there was another sister living in Virginia, and I was sorry not to meet her. She and Patrick seemed very close. Annie was the eldest of the three though, so she had the most dirt on Patrick’s childhood, making me laugh at stupid things he’d done. While Annie assembled a salad and peeled potatoes, she regaled me with her amazing knowledge of useless trivia surrounding food, particularly bananas. I know a lot about food, but I’d never heard that a cluster of bananas was called a hand. It was very strange but entertaining.
I set Wendy to work sautéing the veggies, and I hunted around for spices. Every time I added something new, one of their eyebrows would rise in question and I’d respond with, “Trust me.”
It wasn’t too long, at least, before the loaf was in a water bath in the oven and there wasn’t much to do except wait for it to cook. Wendy poured everyone a glass of wine and made me a spritzer, which was sweet and a little silly. It also made me giddy with excitement.
We stayed in the kitchen, propped on the countertops, sipping our drinks and engaging in what I could only describe as girl talk. It was easy and strangely familiar. I could almost feel my mom in there with me. She would have been horrified that I was sitting on the counter, feet swinging while I laughed and sipped wine with these women I’d just met along with my pregnant belly poking out. Yeah, it sounds bad when you list it out.
We heard a scream and a growl from the other room and the perfectly harmonized “Mom!” yelled by the twins.
Annie sighed and set her wine aside. “That was nice while it lasted.” She patted me on the shoulder as she left. “It’s just one in there, right?”
I laughed and nodded. “Yes. Just one. I think that’s all I can handle.”
“That’s what I thought too. The big guy upstairs had his own plan though.”
She smirked and left with a pat on my shoulder, leaving me staring after her with a grimace. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that there was just one child growing inside me. Wendy’s shoulders were shaking slightly with laughter.
“That girl was terrified when she found out she was having twins. She’s a planner, that one. I found it tremendously funny. That probably makes me a terrible mother.”
“Definitely not.” I shook my head and took the final sip of my spritzer.
I looked up when the silence was notable. Wendy was studying me over her wineglass.
“Tell me about your mom.”
I began to cough lightly, unprepared for the topic. But then a sense of happy washed over me. I didn’t often allow my thoughts to travel to my mom. I missed her too much, and the memories would consume me, especially her last days. But sitting amid Patrick’s family, I wasn’t thinking of that time. I was thinking about what it would be like to have her with me. And I wanted to share.
“My mom was great.” I smiled. “We looked a lot alike, I think. She was smart and quick. Strict when I was growing up, but then my best friend as I got older.” I shrugged. “She was such a positive person. Her only concern when she got sick was… me. She was a special lady.”
“I think she must have been.”
I blushed and was saved from responding by the ding of the oven timer. I grabbed oven mitts and pulled dinner from the oven. In comfortable silence, we plated the meal and carried it out to the dining room where the boys were still roughhousing, and I do mean all the boys. I smiled watching Patrick wrestle with his nephews, joking and laughing, carefree and almost boyish. I could picture him with our son so easily, a little boy who would look just like his daddy, God willing, and butterflies fluttered around inside me.
Once Nathan and Abe were rounded up, we sat, and an expectant silence fell over the table. Everyone looked between Patrick and his plate.
“What?” he finally asked with wide eyes glancing around.
His family shrugged and pretended they were busy eating while I tried to hide my laughter. Discreetly, I held out my fork and he tapped his against it. I watched from the corner of my eye while he took his first bite. I could tell immediately by the way he smiled that it was good. Then he shot a quick wink my way.
Suddenly the table erupted in applause, and I choked with laughter as I looked around. Patrick’s family raised their glasses to me, their smiling faces beaming.
“To Ivy,” Henry boomed. “Welcome to the family.”
Chapter 21
Patrick
“We’re going to a bar?” Ivy asked with furrowed brows.
“Well, a restaurant… that has a bar in it.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“I know.”
“A bar?”
“They don’t force you to drink, blondie.”
“Yeah, but… what am I supposed to do there?”
I looked at her in utter confusion. “Talk?”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m lost. We’re just meeting Sean because he wanted to… to meet you. So we’re go
ing to where he is.”
“At a bar.”
I sighed. “Do you want me to see if he’ll meet us somewhere else? Like a coffee shop or something?”
“No, it’s fine. But if you ask me to be the designated driver, I will castrate you. I’m really good at it.”
I shuddered. “No doubt.”
I reached over and took her hand, letting my thumb caress her skin. She was all worked up again, a soft flush gracing her cheeks the same way it would when I worked her up in a much better way. Still, this was fun too.
I pulled into the parking lot and up to the valet. Ivy once again rolled her eyes when I handed over my keys to the attendant. I smirked and pinched her on the ass just to piss her off further.
I spotted Sean’s bald head right away. He was hard to miss, standing out amid the sea of business-clad men and women in just a T-shirt and jeans. He stood when he saw us and waved us over, clapping a hand on my back in a hug.
“Good to see you, man,” I said.
“No kidding. But seems you’ve been busy,” he said with a grin, reaching out for Ivy’s hand. She laughed as they shook, and Sean tugged her closer and hugged her as well.
“All right, all right.” I pulled Ivy away from him and tucked her into my side. “She’s too young for you anyway.”
Sean winked. “That’s true. I do like ’em on the seasoned side.”
Ivy’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
He shrugged and sat back in his stool. We settled beside him, and I ordered… waters. Ivy grinned at me and patted my thigh, leaning back against my chest to face Sean. He regarded us over his wineglass.
“Forgive me if this is rude,” Ivy began, “but at first impression, you don’t strike me as much of a Chardonnay drinker.”
He cleared his throat and set his drink aside. “You would be correct. I don’t overly enjoy it. However, my flavor of lady tends to flock toward it. This, right here”—he tapped a finger on his glass—“is cougar juice.”
