Chapter 9 #2
I grumble a sound and stomp a few steps as we continue to walk. “I guess it’s… what we needed.”
“It will blow over in a few days when Shawn Cann does something stupid to land in the media.” He leads us and motions up ahead to Jolly Joe’s. “Grilled cheese?”
“Sounds good, actually.”
A few minutes later, we are sitting in a booth by the jukebox that’s barely used in Jolly Joe’s.
“Is this going to become a frequent occurrence? Lunch?” I ask one-toned and drop my straw into my iced tea.
“I do think humans eat lunch, so yes.” He’s being coy.
“I mean you, me, lunch.”
Connor crosses his arms on the table. “Get used to it, Sprinkles. I’m going all in on this. I know you hate it, which is why I love it.”
“Wonderful.” I’m not at all serious.
He bows his head and an almost shy half-smile forms. “Can I ask you something?”
“Might as well or it may be a long lunch.”
“Are you 100% certain that we didn’t… in Vegas…” His face strains before his eyes draw a line up to mine. “I mean, we probably didn’t use birth control.”
I’m amused by this. “You mean, am I sure that we didn’t have sex in our drunken haze? Or am I sure that I’m not miraculously pregnant?”
He isn’t entertained by my statement, and he rolls his eyes to the side.
I snort a laugh. “Connor, your dick isn’t that magical. No immaculate conception happened, so yeah, I’m sure. Why do you even ask?”
His head bobs side to side. “I think we can both agree that we share a similar history in that department.”
I think about it for a second then realize. “Ah, you mean that you’re the product of an accidental pregnancy and so am I?”
“Exactly that. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and they love me. But I know I wasn’t planned and ruined their life only slightly.” He’s only partly joking. “And you, well…”
“Also a surprise. Although my dad was in his mid-twenties, not eighteen like your mom.”
“Do you ever wonder about, well, I know April is your mom, but…” He treads delicately with his words.
I stir my drink. “April is my mom, I don’t need biology for that.
My birth mom is purely someone who birthed me.
She never wanted me, so I will never give her a second thought, and I’m completely at peace with it.
She had options when she got pregnant but chose my dad, who gave me the best life, so in a way I appreciate it. ”
Connor swipes a hand across his jaw, and I notice that he’s growing out a little stubble, and it’s kind of sexy. I felt his five-o clock shadow against my thighs last night, and I cross my legs from the thought.
“That’s a good way to evaluate it. You are such a daddy’s girl too.”
I laugh, appreciating how easy our conversation is going, how open we can be. “I am,” I admit proudly.
“I have to go the rink at the training center this afternoon. I promised Wyatt some ice time, plus I want to talk to my dad about summer camp this year.”
A sincere smile beams on my face. Connor’s good with his brothers. Like me, we pack an age difference with our young siblings, but that makes it more fun. “You’re volunteering this year at summer camp?”
“Always. My dad has been running it for years, and I have to give back. We have a few extra weeks this year because we have more inner-city kids coming out, it’ll be good.” There hasn’t been an ounce of fakeness in him in the last ten minutes. I dare say that he’s being endearing right now.
I recall something in my head and bite my lip. “Weren’t you a camp counselor once for the summer camp?”
Connor leans back and brings his hands behind his head with a glimmering smile. “Yeah, when I was sixteen. The summer my aunt and uncle were sneaking around, and my dad had no clue. It was awesome,” he reflects fondly.
I have to laugh, because of course he loves mischief, and that summer he caused a lot.
And that’s just how our conversation goes for the next hour. A memory, a laugh, one topic blending into another, everything easy.
By the time he’s paid the bill and we are walking back to my studio, I almost forgot that I find the guy insufferable on the edges. Instead, I’m conflicted inside.
Our arms brush as we move in a leisurely stroll down the sidewalk, appearing like a perfect couple. When the man up ahead locks his car, he gives me a nod, and I return the gesture.
“Care to explain why Harry, the sheriff’s brother, greeted you with a nod?” my broody husband requests.
I smirk to myself before I pull his arm to stop walking, because I want to see his face. “We used to date.”
There we go, the territorial glare begins to brew on Connor’s face. “As in…”
I cross my arms over my chest and stand tall. “As in did I sleep with him? Believe it or not but you may have been my first but not my last. It was like one month of dating, and he’s now with someone he met in college.”
“He doesn’t seem like your type. He looks like an ass. Then again, you had a phase. I remember when you dated O’Keefe who didn’t even bother getting you roses.”
My eyes turn surprised. “That was when I was like seventeen, and he brought me flowers for my dance recital. How the hell do you remember that?”
Connor rubs his shoulder. “I don’t know.”
Rolling my eyes, I get us moving again because maybe I’m reading too much into it.
“I don’t really care about your opinions on my dating history, since I know I’ve kissed a lot of frogs, including you.
” I flash him a pointed look that he appreciates because he enjoys when I offer him snipes on a continuous basis.
It’s a silent block that we walk, but I don’t mind. It’s kind of peaceful. I hate to say that we are more comfortable with one another as the hours since our time in Vegas pass. Then again, comfort isn’t our issue, because even when arguing we’re comfortable.
After I enter the security code, he holds the door to the studio open for me. “I can stop by the grocery store on my way home from the rink. What do you want for dinner?”
I’m melting into a pile of goo. Who is this guy? Oh yeah, the man who thinks being a good husband is the way to break me. Except, he looks far too convincing right now, and I’ve actually lost what’s happening. I need to take a breather, create some space.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll grab a salad from the store. Weekdays are pretty busy for me. Four to nine pm are primal dance class times, so don’t expect me back until later,” I explain, even though it’s kind of a lie, as I’m on my summer schedule.
A wave of disappointment glazes in his eyes. “That makes sense. I’ll leave you something in the fridge.”
I nod once. He leans in, and I pray to myself he doesn’t do what I think he’s going to do.
Don’t. Please don’t. No. Yes. I mean, really don’t.
He places a small kiss on my cheek as a parting.
It’s the type of affection that is concerning to a woman like me. Because it’s effective and sends a whisper inside me, awakening a small beacon of hope that maybe we could be everything.