Chapter 42 #2
I stand. “Well, I was serious. You ready to go?”
“My friends called a car. Really, I’m good. Thank-thank you for staying.”
“We need to talk, Wren.”
“Now isn’t a great time. I wouldn’t be sure which one of you to talk to. Let’s catch up next summer, ’kay?”
I exhale. “I didn’t mean any of that. I was shocked to see you, and—”
“Are you the maybe baby daddy?”
I glance at the giggling woman who’s just appeared next to Wren—the same dark-haired friend she was talking to throughout the night. Stammer a startled, “W-w-what?”
“Never become a spy, Gia,” Wren says, then starts for the door.
“Have fun!” her friend calls, winking at me before I follow Wren.
She’s moving fast, despite her tipsiness, but I’m sober with longer legs.
“You’re pregnant?” I blurt as soon as we’re outside and I’m reasonably certain no one else can overhear. The parking lot is mostly empty by this point in the night.
“No,” is Wren’s emphatic reply.
I relax.
Then she adds, “I mean, I don’t think I am.”
My neck snaps her way. “What does that mean?”
“It means we forgot a condom this morning.”
I scrub a palm across my face. How was that just this morning?
“You—I—it’d be …” I assumed if she’d had a pregnancy scare, it was with her ex. “But you said … birth control.”
Wren seems to make some sense of my rambling. “There’s always a small chance. I was freaked out about it earlier, and I mentioned it to Gia, thinking she’d talk me down. Not say something to you. It’s super unlikely, and I’m—ugh.”
She beelines for the wooded side of the parking area suddenly. I follow, not realizing what’s happening until she doubles over.
I walk over, gathering her hair in one hand, twisting it so it stays out of her face.
Wren attempts to shove me away. “Go away,” she groans. “This is gross.”
“You’ve looked sexier,” I agree.
Her arm flails as she tries to push me again. I grab her wrist, pinning her hand behind her back. She grinds her ass against my crotch, and I growl her name.
She laughs, then vomits again. Gags. “I’m never drinking again.”
“Great plan.”
Another groan.
“You done?” I ask, releasing her wrists.
Wren wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I think so.”
“Scale of one to ten, before you get in my truck?”
She thinks. “Four?”
“I’ll roll the windows down,” I decide.
Wren smiles.
“You’d tell me, right?”
“If I was about to throw up in your truck?” She rolls her eyes. “Yes. And I’d pay to have it detailed, which, honestly, would be an improvement.”
“If you got pregnant.”
She sobers. Well, sobers as much as she can with who knows how many drinks swimming in her system. “You’d want me to?”
“Yes.”
“So, you’re the only one allowed to keep secrets?”
“You know all my secrets.”
“I don’t know what you wrote in those letters.”
“Because you didn’t bother to tell me you were going to fucking England instead of Los Angeles! Why did you change schools anyway?”
“You know why. I can’t stick to a decision, like you said earlier.”
“That’s not what I said. Or what I meant.”
Wren blows out a long breath. “It’s down to a two now.”
She starts toward my truck, stumbling after only a few steps. The ground here is uneven, but I’m guessing her unsteadiness has more to do with the alcohol lingering in her system.
I scoop her up before she can twist an ankle, ignoring the protests that she smells.
“You’re never going to want to have sex with me again,” she declares, halfway across the parking lot.
“I always want to have sex with you, Wren. That’s how this morning happened.”
“I probably wouldn’t keep it,” she says. Her head is turned away, so I can’t read her expression. “Would you still want to know?”
My answer doesn’t require any thought. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I echo.
We reach my truck a few seconds later. Wren slides out of my arms immediately, which I’m a little disappointed by.
I climb into the driver’s side. She’s beaten me inside, her fingers drumming a steady tap against the door.
“We should have done some of that date stuff you suggested to Gus,” I say, sticking the key into the ignition.
“I didn’t know—I was insecure about everything you could do yourself that I couldn’t offer you.
Figured it was better to not try at all than to take you to a free concert when you were used to a ten-course meal at a fancy restaurant. ”
“It’s fine. I mostly wanted to have sex that summer anyway.”
“I’m serious, Wren.”
“So am I. I didn’t care what we did, Sawyer. I just wanted to be with you. If we were alone, even better.” She yawns. “Besides, that guy I gave my number to earlier looked like he’d play mini golf with me.”
“Hundred Bucks Guy? You gave him your number?” I watched and didn’t think she’d talked to him again.
“No.” She smirks. “That was just payback for the cilantro.”
I glare at her, but I’m fighting a smile myself. Mostly of relief. “Good. Your number’s worth more like five hundred.”
“A hundred was more than you offered.”
Recalling how I wound up with Wren’s number effectively ends our bickering. That photo is no longer my background, but I still look at it often. More frequently than I should.
Wren’s quiet on the drive. I turn the music down to a reasonable volume, focusing on the dark road ahead. It’s not until we reach her street—what I think is still her street—and I glance over to confirm it is that I realize she’s fast asleep.
I pull into the driveway, relaxing when I recognize her convertible parked by the garage.
She doesn’t stir when I whisper her name, so I climb out and walk over to her side.
Open the door carefully since she’s slumped against it and try to wake her up again.
Wren groans, this time burrowing her face against my neck.
I glance toward the house. There are enough lights on downstairs that it appears someone is awake.
I sigh because this is a terrible first impression with her family, then scoop Wren up for a second time tonight. Rather than wake up and demand to walk in on her own, she just snuggles closer to my chest.
Careful steps lead me to the front door. I have to ring the doorbell with my elbow because Wren is still conked out.
The door opens a few seconds later, a blonde woman wearing matching pajamas and a frantic expression appearing in the doorway.
“Hi, Mrs. Kensington,” I say. “I’m Sawyer Bennett. I’m just … dropping Wren off.”
Wren’s mom glances at her sleeping daughter. She still appears concerned, but there’s some mingled frustration and disappointment too. “I see. Thank you for bringing her home, Sawyer.”
“Of course. I’ll … it’s okay if I carry her upstairs?”
Wren stirs at the sound of my voice, murmuring something unintelligible.
Mrs. Kensington nods once. “Thank you.”
I nod, passing Wren’s mom and continuing upstairs.
Too late, I realize I should have asked which room was Wren’s. Needing no directions is essentially advertising the fact that I’ve been here before.
Her room looks the same as when I was here last. I carry her straight into the bathroom, repeating her name until her eyes blink open. Once she’s conscious and squinting, I set her on the counter. I squirt some Crest on her toothbrush, then hand it to her.
“Thanks,” she whispers, sticking it in her mouth and starting to brush. She bends over to spit in the sink, and then I take the brush back. “Hand me those?” she asks, pointing to a package labeled as makeup wipes.
I do, and she pulls two out, using them to clear her face and then tossing them in the trash.
She tries to slide off the counter but sways, so I pick her up again and carry her into her room.
Wren nearly falls, tugging her shirt off, so I help guide it over her head, praying her mom doesn’t come upstairs to find me undressing her drunk daughter.
Not that her mom’s opinion of me really matters. Odds are, we’ll never meet again.
Wren manages to get her bra and jeans off herself while I search through her drawers for something that looks like pajamas. I toss her the first pair I find, keeping my back turned until I hear the sheets rustle.
Once she’s in bed, I head back into the bathroom, filling an empty glass on the counter with tap water and carrying it back into her room. Her eyes are closed again, so I just set it within easy reach.
“Sawyer?” she murmurs.
I glance at Wren’s face. Her eyes are still closed. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Then she nestles against her pillow and appears to fall fast asleep.