by Sarah Adams
Richard comes out of the kitchen, and there it is, my nightmare on a plate. He presents his husband with a freaking big grilled lobster on a bed of steamed vegetables that look almost as terrible as the seafood. I rub my hand over my belly and promise my unborn child I will sneak out of here and hunt down a Taco Bell after everyone goes to bed.
Richard sets an identical plate of red sea creature in front of Drew. Henry and Drew both ooh and aah over their spoils, the lobster winks at me, and I mentally dry-heave. My gaze trickles over my inevitable future, and I gulp a little too loudly. Drew hears it and leans back in his seat, taking his beer from the table and raising it to his grinning lips. The glass bottle makes contact with his mouth, and I watch closely—intently—as he tips it back and swallows. I stare, all too happy to forget about this dinner of doom and watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Something about this is so sexy I want to cry. This scene should be sculpted and displayed in a museum with a description card underneath that reads: Sensual man at dinner. With greedy intentions, my mind wanders back to the feel of his lips on mine, the way my nerves sizzled when he lingered against my mouth like we had all of time stretched out in front of us and nowhere to go.
I’m reliving my memories in delicious detail when I notice the curve of Drew’s lips widen past the rim of his bottle, so much so that both of his dimples peek out. My eyes pop up to his and he’s staring at me, eyebrows raised. Whatcha thinking about over there, Jessie?
I clear my throat, and my gaze darts away just in time to see Richard exit the kitchen, making his way toward me, holding out a plate like this is the most exquisite fine-dining restaurant in all the land. If he had a silver plate topper, he would have used it, and I would have been able to see my horrified expression reflected back at me.
“And for you, Jessie, something extra special.”
Oh goody. Did they save the daddy lobster for me or something? Is it still alive and I’ll have to kill it before I can eat it?
I set my voice up an octave higher than it needs to be in order to overcompensate for my inward glum attitude. “Oh yummmm, I’m so excited to eat some delicious”—Richard sets the plate down in front of me, and I frown—“steak?”
I almost can’t believe my good luck. Do I harness magical powers and the strength of my mind allowed me to change that lobster into a delicious, garlicky, buttery steak? Briefly, I look at Drew, wondering if I can make his clothes disappear with my new magic. His white pocket tee sadly stays in place, but the smile on his mouth is full of amusement.
I look down, now skeptically pushing the steak around my plate wondering if it’s just a lobster painted brown. I glance at Drew, but he betrays nothing as his eyes watch me closely. Then these three stooges start laughing like someone delivered a punch line and I missed it. I look blankly around the table, and then I see Henry wipe a tear from his eye.
“Look at your face! I’m sorry, hun. It was mean to play a prank on you, but Drew talked us into it.” He’s still chuckling, but it’s clear he feels terrible. His heart is too wholesome for enjoying pranks performed on vulnerable pregnant women. “Every time we mentioned this lobster today, you looked like you wanted to run for the hills.”
Richard nods. “While you were still outside this morning, Drew came in and told us you can’t stomach seafood. He snuck out while you and Henry were sitting out on the dock and picked you up a steak.”
Henry gives me an amused yet apologetic look, like he wants to laugh but is also afraid I’m going to cut up our friendship bracelet. “But he made us promise to keep it a secret all day and to really talk up the lobster. Are you upset?”
Am I upset? Am I upset? YES, I’M UPSET!
But not at all for the reasons everyone at this table thinks. I’m upset because Drew has my preferences memorized. He went out to the freaking grocery store and bought me a steak because he knew I wouldn’t be able to handle seafood. He knows so many tiny things about me because he’s been paying attention. It also occurs to me that my glass of water is the only one at the table with ice in it. No doubt Drew’s doing as well, because he’s noticed ice water is the only way I’ve been able to drink it through this pregnancy. Like a rolodex fanning out in front of me, I now see all the thoughtful little things Drew has done for me lately.
And the icing on the breakdown cake? I love pranks. Adore them, even. And he somehow managed to wrap all of this up in a nice little humorous bow. Wonderful. Now I’m going to cry.
I muster a smile. It’s so fake, but I don’t have another option. My face says, Here are all my teeth! I avoid Drew’s gaze. “Great prank. Will you guys excuse me? I’ll be right back.”
I feel Drew’s eyes on my back with every step I take away from the table. I turn the corner, and as soon as I’m out of sight, I bolt to the bathroom and whip out my phone.
I dial Lucy, and the second the call connects, I whisper-yell, “I DRANK THE KOOL-AID!” I know I have exactly two and a half minutes to stay in here before everyone comes to the conclusion that I’m struggling with bowel issues. There will be no meeting anyone’s eyes after that, so I have to hurry.
“I KNEW IT!” she yells back, not even needing me to remind her of the conversation we had in the salon, because we’re always quick to get on each other’s level.
I must be on speakerphone, because I hear Cooper’s voice crystal clear. “What Kool-Aid?”
“Drew’s Kool-Aid,” Lucy tells him.
“Is that a euphemism?”
“EWWW, no! It’s a metaphor.”
“For something dirty?”
I’m too short on time to listen to their back-and-forth banter. “GO AWAY, COOPER! I’M HAVING A MELTDOWN AND I NEED TO TELL LUCY I THINK I LO—” I get interrupted when the bathroom door opens. I gasp and gape as Drew just lets himself right into the bathroom. “What are you doing in here? Get out! I could have been in here pooping!” Shoot. Why did I say that? I could have just left it at going to the bathroom!
Drew shrugs and stares at me with those blue eyes like I’m the one who’s acting silly even though he’s the person who barged in on a woman in the bathroom. “But you’re not. You’re on the phone.”
“Doesn’t matter. I could have been pooping while talking on the phone.”
Lucy whispers in my ear. “You’re saying the word poop a lot. Just thought you’d like to know. Also, do you need me here for this?”
I turn my attention to Lucy. “Yes! You stay.” I point to Drew. “You leave!”
“No, I need to talk to you.” I hate the way his eyes are sparkling. Like bubbling champagne, they glimmer and promise nothing but fun, good times.
“Tough. Because I need to talk to Lucy.”
Cooper’s voice comes back on the line. “Is that Drew? Can I talk to him real quick?”
Drew hears Cooper’s voice, so he steps forward and pulls the phone out of my hand. I roll my eyes and sigh as he grins down at me. “Hey man, what’s up?” Cool, cool, cool. We’re all just one happy friend group chatting it up in the bathroom.
I lean closer to hear, NOT to smell Drew. Getting a good whiff of him is purely coincidental.
“Did you get invited to the bachelor party camping weekend for Tod next month? I’m not going if you’re not. Man, I hate camping. Please tell me you’re not going so I don’t have to go either.”
“Yep. I’m going because he asked me to be in the wedding, so I’m definitely dragging you with me.”
Okay, now this is too much. Can they seriously not chat about their social calendar on their own time? I poke Drew in the stomach. Unsurprisingly, it’s rock hard. “Talk to your boyfriend later. Give me my phone back, please.” I say the word with crazy googly eyes.
Drew’s deep chuckle tickles me right in the heart, and he looks down at me like I’m the most adorable creature in the world as he addresses Cooper. “Sorry, I’ve gotta run. I’ll text you about it later.”
And then he HANGS UP and pockets MY cellphone in his jeans. What weird hostage lake house
weekend is this?!
Drew smiles at me in this tiny bathroom, and I feel stripped naked. Not only has he stolen my sanity, he stole my freak-out zone, and my freak-out friend. This is like a complete Drew submersion where I’m not allowed to do anything but confront all my feelings for him. It’s not good.
I glance at the door, and I think he can tell I’m going to try to make a run for it because his eyes cut to the door handle and then he shifts his body in front of it.
“Oh, real nice. Are you going to hold me hostage in here?”
“Maybe.”
“Well are you at least going to give me my phone back?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I want to know if you’re mad at me.”
I shift on my feet, wondering if I’ll feel safer if I wrap a towel around myself. “Why does it matter if I am or not?”
His long lashes blink a few times. He’s debating his answer. “Because…it does. I…” He swallows. “I bought you the steak to be nice, and I thought you’d think us tricking you about the lobster was funny. I’m sorry if I missed the mark…I never would have done it if I thought you were going to be upset.”
You didn’t miss the mark. It was a perfect bull’s eye.
I fold my arms tightly in front of me. “Only a week ago you did things to make me upset on purpose.”
“Yeah…but not anymore. I just want to make sure you know that.” He pauses, and his smile turns almost tortured…sad. Some of his bad boy arrogance from earlier is wearing thin, and now he just looks vulnerable. Not a side Drew shows often—if ever. He shakes his head with an embarrassed chuckle like he can’t stand the way he feels right now, and I can perfectly relate. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in here.”
He takes my phone out of his pocket and hands it back.
“I just…” He’s fumbling with his hands. DREW MARSHALL is fumbling. Would it be rude to use my phone to record him right now? Not to be mean, just to document how freaking cute he looks when he’s unsure of himself.
He picks up a hand towel from the counter, making two perfect lengthwise folds and one in the middle before rehanging it on the rack. He taps a finger on the counter then smooths his hand over the spot, his eyes staring intently at everything he does. Drew turns on the faucet and turns it back off. There’s a boyishness about him that’s making my heart skip. Is he getting up the nerve to ask me to prom? YES, DREW, I’LL GO WITH YOU!
Finally, when my heart can’t melt any more, I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s an awkward hug. My belly makes it so that my butt has to kind of stick out like a duck’s feathers in the back, and I really smashed my face against his chest—but it doesn’t matter because this isn’t supposed to be an intimate moment. This is me declaring friendship.
Drew is stiff for only a moment before his big hand rises and gently smooths down the back of my hair. He wraps his other arm around me and holds me tight, like he’s never letting go. “We’re okay?” he murmurs into my hair.
“Yeah…” I honestly don’t know what Drew and I are, but I do know this. “We’re great.”
We hug another minute, and I don’t tell him how thankful I am for the steak, or how funny I think the little lobster prank was, because I’m scared enough to have his arms around me—I don’t need to throw emotions into the mix too.
After dinner, I help Henry clear the table and load up the dishwasher. He told me I didn’t need to help him, but I insisted, because I’m a big coward and didn’t want to face Drew again. Every time I looked over at him during the meal, our eyes locked. I felt like we were having a private conversation that I didn’t mean to be having, like he could read my thoughts whether I wanted them read or not.
So I found a way to get myself a little space while he disappeared after dinner. But now, the dishes have been cleared, cleaned, dried, and put away. I’ve also re-organized Henry and Richard’s silverware drawer, wiped out the microwave, and swept the floor. I’m just about to clear the cobwebs from the tops of the cabinets when Henry stops me.
“Jessie! I didn’t bring you out here to be Cinderella,” he says with a chuckle as he attempts to peel the broom from my hands. I grip the stick tighter, and his sweet smile falters a little before he gives one final yank and tugs it free. “The weather’s nice right now. Why don’t you go find Drew and take a romantic nighttime stroll by the lake?”
Under no circumstances can that happen. I will accidentally propose to Drew.
“You know, actually, I’m feeling pretty tired all of a sudden. I think I’ll turn in early!” We both look at the clock and see that it’s only eight PM. Apparently I’m going to be turning in super early. I rub my belly bump like that’s a suitable answer for why I’m acting so odd. “If you see Drew, will you tell him I went to bed?”
This is a good decision—going to bed early. Even though I know there’s not a chance I’ll fall asleep before 2 AM, I can at least pretend I’m fast asleep when Drew comes in so I don’t have to face him. Inside the room we are (unfortunately) sharing, I busy myself with making a little pallet on the floor. I decide to write a sign to prop up beside it with an arrow that reads, This is where you sleep, just to make sure he doesn’t miss it.
I stand back, hands on my hips, and nod affirmatively at the luxury pallet. Good. This is going to work. And then I turn around, open the door to the bathroom, step inside, and scream.
“OH MY GOSH! I’m so sorry! I thought you were outside somewhere!” I say to a nearly naked Drew standing in front of the sink. He’s wearing nothing besides tight black boxer briefs with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. His hair is damp like he just got out of the shower. The steam swirling around him confirms it.
I need to look away. MUST LOOK AWAY. But I can’t.
My eyes have gone completely rogue and are scanning…as slowly as possible…down Drew’s tan muscular body like I’m needy and he’s got everything I’m lacking. Strong thighs, abs on abs on abs, arm muscles and shoulder muscles and WAIT ONE FREAKING SECOND, IS THAT A TATTOO?!
“Jessie?” Drew says, making me suck in a breath and shoot my eyes up to his. He’s grinning mid-teeth-brushing, mostly naked and completely comfortable in his own skin. Speaking of his skin, I like it. I want to run my fingers across the top of those shoulder boulders he’s got. I want to trace the indentions around each of his abs. Who knew this masterpiece is what he’s been creating every morning at the gym? I mean, ever since I saw that tiny sliver of his golden abdomen, I knew his body would be magnificent. But this…this is more than I could have hoped for.
“Do you mind?” he says, amusement thick in his tone.
Oh right! Drew probably doesn’t want me to stand here all night ogling him. Well, too bad. Shouldn’t have had a body like that, Drew, if you don’t want women staring at it!
I’m vaguely aware of shouting something like This is your own fault! while slamming the door behind me. Now Henry and Richard probably assume we’re fighting. Drew chuckles on the other side of the bathroom door, and I want to chuck something at his head. But since that would require opening that bathroom door and seeing his glorious nakedness again, I refrain. I’m not sure my heart can handle any more excitement tonight. It might just give out completely.
While Drew is in the bathroom, I hurry to shimmy into my pink and white striped maternity PJ set and scurry under the covers so quickly I probably broke a world record. Just as I’m pulling my sheets up to my chin, the bathroom door opens. My heart hammers painfully against my chest as Drew walks out in slow motion, steam billowing through the doorway like he’s so hot his body just naturally produces it.
He’s put on a pair of black sleep pants, but that’s all, and my eyes still see every single inch of his smooth muscular chest and tapered waste and—
“Tattoo…” I say, forgetting how to make complete sentences.
Drew’s eyebrows go up, clearly enjoying this mental numbness he’s creating in me.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“You have one.”
He takes another step into the room, using his towel to dry his hair. His muscles do very interesting things in the process. “I do.”
It’s beautiful is what I don’t say. There are three large watercolor flowers surrounded by greenery, inked in soft tones on his upper right chest, curving over his shoulder to spill onto his back and bicep a little. I had no idea he even had a tattoo because of how it’s positioned. You wouldn’t be able to see it even in a short-sleeved shirt. It’s like a sexy secret. One that I now know.
“I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve never seen me with my shirt off before.”
I’m now deeply regretting not coming out on his boat a few weeks ago when Lucy invited me.
I’m trying to drag my eyes away, I really am, but it’s just not happening. Don’t judge me—I’m super pregnant, and Drew is basically an underwear model. “Are you going to get more?”
“Nah—or if I do, they’ll be easily concealed like this one.” He runs his hand over the tattoo, and I honest to goodness shiver a little.
“Why?” LET THE WORLD SEE IT, DREW!
“Because. It’s just best if I do.” Now that is an intriguing answer.
I finally make eye contact with him again and see a slight pinkness to his cheeks. Is he…blushing? “Why is it best?”
He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re gonna make me say it? Fine. Apparently, women generally find me attractive, so…in my occupation…it’s easier if I…”
I take pity and finish his thought for him. “If you tone down your hotness?”
He gives me an uncomfortable smile and head nod. “Yeah, basically. Tattoos don’t exactly scream professionalism…and I make sure when I’m in my practice, everything is completely professional at all times.”
It’s impossible not to realize he’s letting me see him in his unprofessional state, though. He wants me to see him without his shirt on or else he would have fully dressed before coming out here.
