Chapter 19
NINETEEN
ALLY
Sarah Hayes makes it to the French Open final.
On Saturday morning, I settle into the couch and turn on the TV to watch the match. Drew left a little while ago and I assume he’s at the hospital, trying to get some work done before Luke’s barbecue.
But five minutes after the match starts, Drew returns, carrying a bakery box.
“I got you a latte,” he says, walking over to hand me a takeout cup. He sets the bakery box on the coffee table, then goes to the kitchen and returns with two plates.
“Thanks. You’re not going to work?”
“Not today.” He opens the bakery box to reveal six croissants, then sets one on a plate and hands it to me.
“We’ll get croissant flakes on your couch,” I point out.
“I think I’ll survive that,” he says, sitting down beside me.
The croissants are from a fancy French bakery downtown, and they’re still warm from the oven.
“These are delicious,” I say after my first bite.
Drew grins. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t think you ate pastries.”
“I don’t, usually.”
We watch the tennis in silence for a little while. Sarah’s playing a French opponent, so the crowd’s against her, but she still manages to take the first set 6-4.
“They look brutally hot,” I remark as they start the second set. “I’m really glad I’m not playing today.”
“You’re right,” Drew agrees. “They look like they’re melting.”
“Yeah. It’s much better to be here, eating croissants in air conditioned comfort.”
“Absolutely,” he says. “And after the match, they’ll have to talk to the media.”
“Right. Talking to the media would suck.”
“And the winner will have to pay a ton of tax on the prize money.”
“So will the loser,” I point out. “The runner-up still gets a big prize, so she’ll get a tax hit too.”
Drew nods sagely. “So much tax.”
“And they’ll both have to start training for Wimbledon pretty much immediately,” I add. “It’s not like they can spend a week eating pastry in Paris.”
“It sounds awful,” he says, reaching out to take another croissant.
I nod. “I almost feel sorry for them. When it comes down to it, I’m lucky I got out when I did.”
“Not just lucky,” he says. “Smart.”
Sarah wins in three sets. I send her a congratulatory message:
Me: Congrats! You were brilliant, you deserve this, I’m so proud of you! Talk soon, xoxo
Then I set my phone on the coffee table and sink back into the couch. I can’t hold it in anymore, and hot tears start to spill down my cheeks.
“Hey,” Drew says softly. His arms find their way around me, and I bury my face in his chest. His T-shirt is soft and nubbly, and his chest is warm and solid.
And he holds me, stroking my back as I cry myself dry.
“I’m sorry,” I finally mumble into his chest. “I know it’s just a sport, and there are so many people with bigger problems, real problems—”
“It’s okay.” Drew’s hand strokes up and down my back.
“And she’s my friend, I should be happy for her. I am happy for her, but it’s just . . .”
“I know, Ally.”
“I wanted it so much,” I admit.
“I know.”
“I could beat her when I was seventeen.”
“I know.”
“I shouldn’t be jealous, but . . .”
“There’s a word for people who claim they’re never jealous,” Drew tells me.
I lift my face out of his shoulder and look at him. “What’s that?”
“Liars.” He pauses to let that sink in. “Or sociopaths, maybe. It’s a normal human emotion.”
I let out a watery laugh. “Well, I guess I’m not a liar. Or a sociopath.”
“That’s a relief,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s okay to be jealous, Ally. If you want to put up a poster of Sarah and throw darts at her, I won’t think less of you.”
I laugh again. “I suck at darts. And I’d ruin your wall.”
I feel his shoulders move as he shrugs. “It’d be a souvenir of the time Ally Parker lived in my condo.”
Somehow Drew knows exactly what to say. It’s a shame he isn’t looking for a relationship, because he’d make some lucky woman very happy.
“You know,” I say thoughtfully. “If I were still playing pro tennis, I’d never get the chance to fake a relationship with Drew Malone.”
I feel his arm tighten around my shoulder. “That’s true.”
I turn my face into his shoulder again, enjoying the feel of him. Solid and safe, and surprisingly comfortable.
He pulls away far too soon. “Okay,” he says briskly, unwrapping his arm from around my shoulder. “We should get ready for the barbecue.”
“So these are friends from work?” I ask Drew as we drive to the barbecue. By unspoken agreement, we’re not talking about tennis, or about the fact I cried on his shoulder this morning.
“Yeah,” he says, glancing over at me. “You might not remember, but you met Luke in the coffee line a couple weeks ago. The day we were talking about our relationship.”
“Oh, right. He’s a surgeon too?”
“Yeah, general surgery. He lives with his girlfriend, Melissa, and her kids. They dated in high school and got back together last fall.”
“Wow. That sounds like an interesting story.”
“Yeah,” Drew says with a grin. “And I think Austin will be there, he’s a plastic surgeon. And Sophie Kaminsky, the doctor you met in the ER. I think she went to high school with Melissa.”
“Okay.” So most of his friends are doctors. I’m sure they’ll all be wondering what Drew Malone’s doing with an admin assistant.
“What have you told your friends about our relationship?”
“Not a lot,” he replies. “Just that we’re dating.”
“But this won’t be like it was at the Tates’, right?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Like, we don’t need to convince them we’re madly in love?”
“I guess not. Maybe just mildly infatuated?””
I nod. “So I don’t need to call you Honeybun?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Not unless you want me to retaliate, Cuddlebug.”
“Cuddlebug?” I echo. “I kind of like that, actually.”
“No you don’t, Ally. Your taste is far too good for that.”
I’m still laughing as Drew parks in front of a pretty redbrick house. He turns off the ignition and takes off his seatbelt, but makes no move to get out of the car.
“Our friend Ethan will probably be here too. He’s a general surgeon like Luke,” he says.
“Okay,” I say slowly. I wonder what Ethan’s deal is, and why talking about him makes Drew look so uncomfortable.
“He had an alcohol problem, and he’s been on leave since the fall,” Drew finally says.
“He just got back to town a couple weeks ago, and I don’t think he’s seen many people yet.
I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but things might be awkward, and this way you’ll know why.
And there probably won’t be any alcohol. ”
“Of course,” I nod. “It must be hard to come back after something like that.”
Drew nods. “Yeah, I think it is.”
We walk up to the house, and Luke answers the door. He leads us through the house to the back deck, where three people are standing around a table of food.
“Drew!” A good-looking blond guy sets down a wedge of watermelon and starts toward us. “We were just talking about you.”
“I’ll bet,” Drew says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Guys, this is my girlfriend Ally. Ally, meet Melissa, Sophie and Austin.”
I turn to Melissa, a pretty brunette in a pink sundress. “Thanks so much for inviting me,” I say, handing her a Tupperware. “I made some lemon squares.”
“Well, we’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she replies with a grin, setting the Tupperware on the table and taking off the lid. “These look delicious.”
“They sure do,” Austin agrees, helping himself to a lemon square.
Drew glances around the backyard. “No kids today?”
Melissa shakes her head. “They’re at their dad’s. My ex lives in Toronto,” she explains to me. “They go every other weekend.”
“That must be a lot of driving,” I remark.
“It’s not so bad,” she says with a shrug. “Usually I drive them there and he brings them back. And I’m the one who moved, so I can’t really complain.”
“You’re from Toronto?” I ask.
“Not really, I grew up here,” Melissa says. “But I lived in Toronto for over ten years, and only moved back last fall.”
“She missed me, so she came home,” Luke says with a grin.
“I don’t remember it happening quite like that,” Melissa says playfully. “But my parents live here, and there’s less crime—”
“But mostly you missed me,” Luke interjects. “Don’t try to deny it.”
“Okay, yes,” Melissa admits. “I missed you.”
Luke’s lips curve up in satisfaction, and Melissa blushes.
“So, Ally,” Austin cuts in. “I heard you met Drew at work?”
“Yeah, I was his admin assistant for a couple of weeks.”
“I have to say, I was glad to hear Drew was bringing someone who wasn’t a doctor,” Melissa says. “These guys love to talk shop, and Sophie’s just as bad. She’s an ER doctor.”
“Yeah, I met her in the ER, actually,” I say.
“Really?” Austin asks curiously.
I nod. “Yeah, I fell off my bike and cut my arm. She stitched me up.”
Austin turns to Drew. “You let Sophie do the sutures? You could have called me.”
“She did a great job,” I say, extending my forearm as proof. “It healed really well.”
Austin steps closer and peers down at my arm. “Huh. It was how long ago?”
“Just over a week.”
“Not bad, Soph,” Austin admits grudgingly. “For an ER doc.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could’ve done better,” Sophie says sweetly. “I just didn’t think you’d want to deal with a routine laceration. But the next time someone needs sutures, I’ll call you.”
“That’s a great idea, Sophie,” Luke puts in. “I’m sure Austin would be happy to help. Especially if it’s the middle of the night and he’s not on call.”
“Nah, you should call Luke,” Austin says. “He needs the practice.”
Luke swats him playfully on the shoulder, and Austin yelps.
“They’re always like this,” Melissa says apologetically. “I should have mentioned, we’ve got soft drinks in the cooler or there’s lemonade in the fridge inside. Help yourself to whatever you’d like.”
“Thanks.” I walk over to the cooler and grab a can of iced tea for myself and a Perrier for Drew.
“So I take it you don’t work in health care?” I ask Melissa.
“Not even close,” she says with a laugh. “I teach math at Brookline Academy.”
“Wow.” Brookline’s the only private girls’ school in town, and they’re known for their high standards.
Melissa blushes a little. “I’m not technically a teacher yet,” she explains. “I don’t have a degree, but—”
“They’re paying you to teach, so you’re a teacher,” Luke interrupts, slipping an arm around her waist. “They begged you to take the job—”
“Because they couldn’t find anyone else,” Melissa puts in.
“Because you’re a damn good teacher,” Luke corrects. “Pretty soon you’ll be running that school.”
Melissa rolls her eyes. “Luke’s mom knows the principal,” she explains.
“And since Brookline’s a girls’ school, they only hire women, and they couldn’t find anyone qualified for upper level math.
I don’t have a teaching degree, but I did my undergrad in computer science, and it had a lot of math. So I’m muddling along.”
“Don’t be modest,” Luke says, looking at her proudly. “You got invited to give a talk at a Women in STEM conference in August.”
“Yeah, I kind of fell into that one,” Melissa says. “One of my students asked why they had to learn math, and I went on a bit of a rant. Someone filmed it and put it on Instagram, and it got some attention from STEM groups.”
“My niece found it really inspiring,” Drew says. “She wants to do something in STEM.”
Melissa’s blush deepens. “Thanks. Anyway, I’m starting Teacher’s College in the fall, so I’ll eventually be legit. I found a program that I can do mostly online, so I’m hoping it won’t be too bad.”
“That’s great,” I say, wondering how old Melissa is. If she dated Luke in high school she’s probably close to his age, and he must be early thirties at least.
I thought I was too old to go back to school, but maybe it was just an excuse.
And Luke looks so damn proud of Melissa.
All of a sudden Luke’s expression changes. “Hey, Ethan’s here,” he says. Everyone follows his gaze toward the side gate, where a man’s standing with a huge gift-wrapped box in his arms. He’s about Drew’s age, tall and dark with a golden tan.
And he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Luke hustles over to greet him, with Austin and Melissa close on his heels.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Drew says, starting toward the group.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing Drew’s hand. As we watch, Luke releases Ethan from the most awkward hug I’ve ever seen.
Ethan looks like he’s about to flee.
Before I can think through the wisdom of my actions, I turn to face Drew and put my arms around his neck.
“Kiss me,” I whisper. And before he can reply, I push up on my toes and brush my lips over his.
At first, it’s like kissing a statue. Granted, Drew’s a statue that radiates heat and tastes like spearmint gum, but he’s definitely not an active participant. He holds himself perfectly still while I tease my tongue across the seam of his lips.
Shit. This was a mistake. We talked about holding hands to keep up our act, but never about kissing. I’ve clearly taken things farther than he wants to go.
But just as I start to pull back, Drew comes to life. There’s a harsh sound from somewhere deep in his throat, then his hands find my waist and pull me toward him. His tongue plunges into my mouth, hot and demanding.
And just like that, Drew’s the one in control. A wave of heat sweeps over me, and my knees turn to water. If it weren’t for his hands on my waist, I’d probably collapse in a puddle of lust.
He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and as he moves, I get a glimpse over his shoulder.
And see all his friends watching us.