Chapter 3
Chapter Three
DREW
T atum’s eyes go so wide that I’m reminded of the spooky stuffed animals on Sarah Beth’s bed, the ones with the enormous glitter eyes that I plan to hide (and eventually get rid of) if she doesn’t notice they’re gone.
I consider myself a reasonable man, but those things give me the creeps.
But then Tatum squeaks, “What do you mean you can’t ?” in a horrified voice and my attention shifts fully back to the disaster at hand.
“I mean, it seems a little…stuck,” I say, reaching between us again. “But don’t worry, I’m sure I can…”
“You’re sure you can what?” She yips. “No, don’t pull that. That’s definitely connected to my body.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I was just trying to untangle mine from yours.” I pull back a little farther, glancing down into the shadows. “Maybe if we turn on more lights?”
Tatum lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Smart. Lights. Duh, Tatum. Seeing things is easier with the lights on. So…how do we manage that? Considering we’re currently cojoined twins?”
I smile, grateful she’s keeping a sense of humor about this. “Wrap your legs and arms around me. I’ll carry you over to the light switch and we’ll take it from there.”
“Great.” She locks her limbs around me tight enough to make me grunt.
“Good, but maybe not so tight. I don’t want to pass out on the way and drop you.”
“Sorry.” She laughs again but loosens her grip. “I’m nervous. I usually try to look on the bright side, but right now my head is full of worst-case scenarios.”
“Like we’re stuck together for life and have to take turns going to each other’s jobs with a big blanket wrapped around our lower halves?” I ask as I rise from the couch with Tatum wrapped around me.
She exhales a wheezing breath. “Oh my God, no. I work in childcare. If I never have to tell a kid that my privates got stuck to another grown-up’s privates, I’ll consider myself a lucky woman. I was thinking a weird trip to the ER. Or getting caught by my landlord on the way to the ER. Or having to tell my future husband why I have a weird scar above my clitoris from where my piercing was ripped out in a tragic boinking incident.”
Ignoring the flash of irrational jealousy inspired by talk of her “future husband,” I assure her, “Don’t worry. If we have to seek outside assistance, I have a place we can go. They’ll keep it private and discreet.”
“Why isn’t that comforting?” she asks as I flip on the light and glance around the small main room of her apartment. “Try the kitchen table. You can maybe sit me on it, and we can…examine things from there?” She sighs before adding, “So much for wowing you so deeply with my grace and sex vibe that you can’t wait for that second date. There’s nothing sexy about crotch piercing surgery.”
“Sure, there is,” I say as I carry her over to the table. “Traumatic experiences are bonding. And we’re proving we can handle stress and problem-solving together. If that’s not proof that we should go on another date, I don’t know what is.”
She looks up at me, the sweetest smile on her face. “Really? You mean it?”
“I mean it,” I assure her, moving a chair out of the way and setting her gently on the table. “I like you even more than I did before our unfortunate incident.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Promise me you’ll still feel that way once you’ve seen how badly I need a pedicure? I just haven’t had time, what with getting ready to move and all. My polish is all chipped.”
I arch a dubious brow. “Do other guys really care about stuff like that?”
“Some do,” she says, with a shrug. “My ex said it looked tacky.”
I huff. “We’ve already established he’s an idiot. And I have a kid. Once you’ve changed an exploded diaper and cleaned vomit out of your undershirt, nothing about a normal human body can gross you out.”
She nods, not seeming bothered by the news that I have a little one at home. “Good point. Like I said, I work with kids. I know those horrors well.”
“So, you know I’m right. Besides, you wouldn’t be grossed out if my manscaping needed a touch up or I forgot to wear deodorant one day, right?”
“No way.” A bit of the mischief returns to her eyes. “I think I’d like you furry and stinky, actually. We could role play as Tarzan and his proper English lady. You can grunt a lot and I’ll try to teach you to eat with a spoon. I’ll wear a corset you can rip off me and everything.”
I grin. “I’m holding you to that. Though right now I’m hoping ripping is nowhere in our near future.”
She sobers quickly. “Right. Please be careful. I’m attached to my clitoris. More than literally. She’s more than my favorite body part. She’s a friend I can count on when times are tough. She’s always there to listen and deliver good feelings, all while asking nothing in return. She’s just a gem, you know?”
Pretty sure I’m falling in love with this woman, simply based on that single comment alone, I say, “I get it. She’s amazing and will be handled with care.”
Tatum nods. “Okay.” She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Then let’s do it. You go first, and if the situation needs another set of eyes, I’ll be ready. Though to be honest, I’m really hoping I don’t have to look because I think seeing it is going to freak me out.”
“Noted,” I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek and promising, “We’ll get through this. We just need to stay calm and take it one step at a time.” Bracing myself, I pull back to get a better look at the situation.
My cock piercing is indeed caught in her piercing, as expected, but it’s more complicated than I anticipated. When I try to unhook the ball at the end of my piercing from between her ring and ball piercing, I can’t get the balls to part from their respective clasps. It’s like they’ve been fused together by the heat between us.
Which would be kind of hot, I guess, if we weren’t stuck together and likely on our way to seek professional medical assistance.
I keep working at it, sensing her growing anxiety. Though to her credit, she stays pretty quiet aside from the occasional, “You’ve got this. You’re doing a great job. I can tell.”
But finally, there’s no denying the reality of the situation.
I glance up, catching her gaze with a sigh.
“No luck?” she asks.
“No luck,” I say. “Unless you have needle nosed pliers, I don’t think we’re going to get very far on our own. And I’m honestly a little hesitant to start messing around in such a sensitive area with tools. I can fix a broken garbage disposal and stuff like that, but I’m a lawyer, not a handyman.”
“You’re a lawyer?” she asks, sounding shocked. “But you don’t seem anything like a lawyer. You’re not snotty or stuck up at all.”
I smile. “Well, thanks. I’m a real estate lawyer so maybe that helps. It’s not very glamorous.”
“I think it’s glamorous. You did all that schooling and graduated and passed the bar and that’s badass. I barely made it through two years of community college. I’m reasonably intelligent, but I’ve never been great at school.”
“I think you’re very sharp,” I say honestly. “Very sharp and very funny, which is great because you’re going to need your sense of humor for what comes next.”
Her eyes go big again. “Oh no. We’re going to the ER after all.”
“No, we’re going to a private medical office,” I say. “Or we may luck out, and I’ll be able to convince the doctor to come here since driving in our current condition wouldn’t be easy.”
She exhales, her shoulders sinking away from her ears. “Oh wow, that would be so great. Tell her I’ll bring her cookies every week for the next year if she’ll do the house call. And my cookies are really top notch. I’ve had people offer to commit crimes for my cookies.”
“I’m sure your cookies are as fabulous as the rest of you, but the doctor isn’t a woman. He’s a man and…my brother.” I laugh, the horror on her face too intense not to be funny. “It’s okay. He’s a great guy.”
“But he’s your brother,” she wheezes. “If we do start dating, which I hope we will because I like you, then I’d run into him in social settings. And when I do, I will always think of this night and how he’s seen my private parts in the weirdest context possible.”
“He’s a gynecologist,” I say. “I’m sure he’s been in weirder contexts. You should hear some of the stories?—”
“No!” She screeches, making it clear I’ve said the wrong thing. “I don’t want to hear the stories, and I really don’t want to become one of them. Let’s just go to the ER. It’ll suck and might require reliance on my old gymnast training to get in the car, but it’ll be worth it in the end.”
“Then the story will be all over town,” I say, hating that it’s true, but it is. “Steve the bartender was wrong. My mom isn’t the biggest gossip in town, the brother and sister who run the billing department at the medical center are. We breeze in there joined at the you know what, and by tomorrow morning, all of Bad Dog will know we had to be surgically separated.”
“But what about HIPAA? They can’t gossip about a medical procedure!”
“They shouldn’t, no, but that’s never stopped them before,” I say. “And I try to avoid suing people who are distant relations. Third cousins, but still…”
Her forehead furrows. “So, we’re screwed? There’s no hope? I’m going to be known as the loose hussy with the clit ring no matter what?”
“You’re not a loose?—”
“Because I don’t know if I can handle that, Drew,” she says, her voice rising. “I never did anything this embarrassing in my old hometown, but people gossiped about me nonstop anyway. My family was the butt of every joke around there, for generations. We’re the weirdos people feel free to make fun of even though it sucks and negatively impacts the lives of odd, but otherwise perfectly great people. I came here for a fresh start, a chance to be known for who I am apart from all that.” Her face begins to crumble and her voice to waiver. “But if this happens, then it’s over. I might as well pack up and go home because there won’t be a fresh start. There will only be shame and humiliation and probably soreness because it’s starting to hurt a little already and will probably hurt even more by the time we get all the way to the hospital.”
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” I say, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her forehead. “Don’t cry and don’t you dare think about packing up and going home after you just promised me a second date.”
She sniffs. “I’m sorry, I just wanted things to be better. More normal. And now it’s all ruined because we had to get spicy with our piercings. Why didn’t we get pierced in a nice, normal place like the ear or the nose or through the loose skin on our necks?”
“Well, I can’t speak for you, but I’m a lawyer and visible piercings are frowned upon in the office and courtroom. Also, nose rings seem unsanitary, and that neck skin thing sounds disturbing.”
“It is,” she says, still sniffling. “It’s just what popped into my head because I’m sad.”
Fuck. I have to fix this.
I can’t let our wonderful night end this way, not when I’m already feeling things for this woman I haven’t felt in ages. She doesn’t want me to call my brother, which I understand, but maybe there’s someone else? Someone?—
“Wren!” I blurt out, earning a strange look from Tatum. “Sorry. I was just thinking about who else we could call, and it made me think of Wren, my brother’s head nurse at his practice. She can be a little shy with new people, but not when she’s in nurse mode. I could reach out, see if she’ll help us? I know she’ll keep this quiet. She’s not the type to gossip or even think about violating her HIPAA oath.”
Tatum’s glassy eyes fill with hope. “Yes, please. Let’s try her. And the cookie offer still stands from me. Any flavor she likes.”
Five minutes later, we’ve navigated our way back to the couch—and my cell phone—and have a sleepy-sounding Wren on the line. But even though we’ve clearly woken her up and it’s nearly midnight, she promises to be right over.
“Oh, thank God. And praise Wren. I love her already.” Tatum sags with relief, her forehead touching mine.
Me seated, with her straddling my hips, turned out to be the least painful position for both of us.
We’re still in it when Wren walks in twenty minutes later, wearing bright pink bunny print pajamas and carrying a shotgun.