Chapter 29 #2
“You owe me a trip to Victoria’s Secret.” Our hands still locked together, Clementine and I spin toward Willa’s voice, met with a laughing Willa.
“What are you talking about?” Clementine asks, astonished.
Willa points to our entwined hands. “I knew something was going on between the two of you, but Beckett didn’t believe me.”
“How did you know? It’s been like six days.”
It feels way longer than six days. It feels like I’ve known her for most of my life. Which is weird because there’s still so much I don’t know about her, so much I want to learn. Thankfully, I get the chance to do so. Under the guise of being with her.
Willa shakes her head. “I’m surprised you have to ask how I know.”
I glance over at my brother. He seems . . . moderately tame, which is a good thing for me. Especially if there was an inkling we were together.
“We should sit. Eat dinner. Spill all the tea.” Willa giggles, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. She leads Beckett over and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table.
I check in with Clementine. Her face is a soft pink. Leaning in, I mutter, “Welp.”
“Guess the cat’s out of the bag. But how the hell did she know?” she whispers through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t tell anyone.” I hope she can’t hear the concern in my voice. One day in, and I’m already screwing this up, proving I can’t be trusted if she thinks I told them.
“I don’t think you did.” She narrows her eyes at her sister. If she has her way, she’ll get the reason out of her. Clementine sits across from Willa, leaving me across from Beck. “For real. How did you know?”
“There’s always been a vibe between you guys, like a shared secret only the two of you were privy to. Then you mentioned thinking about having sex with him.”
That catches my attention. “Did you now?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. Clementine’s cheeks flush a flaming red. It’s so adorable. I’ll let her off the hook for now, but I’m revisiting this later.
“Willafred,” she hisses. “Some things are supposed to stay in your head.”
Willa shrugs, unfazed by her sister’s ribbing.
“Okay, what else?”
“How he watched your kids so you could run errands. How he volunteered to help you get your Christmas tree. How he was suddenly always at your house.”
“He’s been a good friend. A great one, actually,” Clementine corrects. “And he’s good with the boys. He pays attention to them, plays games with them.”
I listen to her talking about me, and I can’t help but feel proud, even though any friend should help if they could. But that’s not the case with most people, especially guys.
“Yeah, but then you went out on a random Tuesday night. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then Beckett mentioned something about Dax picking up dinner from Cobble Glen on the same night. What are the odds?”
“Only about the same as you inviting us to dinner at this restaurant about an hour after Dax asked me on a date.” She slings her words at Willa, not in anger, but in agitation.
Willa has the decency to look a little guilty. “Seriously?”
I answer, “Yep. So now you owe us a night to ourselves. Let Clementine know when you can babysit.” I don’t know where the suggestion comes from, but once it’s out there, I don’t want to take it back. Because my girl deserves a date night out. With me.
“Yeah, sure. We’d be happy to take them.”
“They can stay the night, if that’s something they’d be up for,” Beck adds.
Clementine’s eyes widen. I’m not sure which has the higher shock value—Beck suggesting they sleep over or having an entire night to ourselves. Because it’s the latter for me for sure.
An entire night to ourselves, to do whatever we want? That sounds like a slice of heaven.
“Yes,” I answer without thinking of the consequences. And when my brain clues in that they’re not my children, I defer to Clementine. “I mean, if that’s something they’d want.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ask them to gauge their interest.” She nibbles the skin around her finger, so I lay a hand on her thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Okay, so what else?”
“Then you showed up at his work. And sat in the car for ten minutes having a ‘discussion’.” She uses air quotes around discussion.
“Meredith’s fired,” I utter. Why is she spilling my secrets to Beck or Willa? We didn’t do anything in the car. We were just talking.
“No, she’s not,” Beck says. “You don’t have the authority to fire her, but also, our business would crumble without her. So unless you’re prepared to take on her job too, she stays.”
I hate when he’s so rational when I’m being irrational. Of course, I won’t fire her, for exactly the reasons he points out, among others.
“Fine, she can stay.”
“Yeah, thought so,” Beck consents.
Willa stares at me, her blue eyes bright with what looks like fury. “Don’t hurt my sister. Beckett calls me Bundy for a reason.” She points her pointer and middle finger toward her eyes and then my way. “I’m watching you,” she mouths.
Clementine rolls her eyes. “So glad you brought dramatic Willa to dinner, Beckett.”
It’s his turn to shrug. His love for her runs deep. The man would do anything to protect her.
A waiter appears at our table. “Hi, I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
“What beer do you have on tap? Wait.” Clementine looks down at her phone and turns to me. “Can we swing by your parents after we eat and you drive us all home so I can have a beer? Or two?”
“Sure thing.”
Clementine lights up brighter than the holiday display in the corner. “Great, thanks.” She turns back toward the waiter. “My question stands. What beer do you have on tap?”
He lists them out, and Clementine hems and haws about which one she wants. “Get one of each. I’ll drink the one you don’t want.”
“Super idea. What the smart man said.” The waiter turns his attention to Willa and Beck, and Clementine leans into me. “They seem okay with the situation, which is good. Because I could get used to this.”
“Which part?” I can’t help but ask.
“Me and you. On a date. Even with other people. It’s . . . nice.”
“It’s more than nice, Clementine.” I don’t add that she should get used to it. Although treating her on dates is something I’d love to do, I’m not sure it’s a reality for us.
And it has nothing to do with my history.