“I like him,” Joey beams, resting his chin on his hand.
“Me too,” Dylan smiles at me. “Brooke?”
I set the racks on the worktop. My next words come as I keep my head down and my hands busy. “You know what I like? Working. Getting a paycheck. Orgasms are also nice, which I doubt come with liking this guy, so, no. I don’t like him. How many special orders do we have today? Three? We need to get started. I need to get started. And God, I need to eat something before I collapse.”
I shuffle up to the front and murder a cupcake.
Brown sugar praline. It never stands a chance.
I’m the last one to arrive at The Tavern later that night. I decide to blame my lateness on the traffic, not the forty-plus minutes I spend getting ready, or the pacing I do around Billy and Joey’s condo.
“Traffic? What traffic? It’s not rush-hour.”
My sister Juls quickly calls me out on my lie after I explain my tardiness. I pretend I don’t hear her as I slowly sip my Long Island and gage the crowd. Imagine Dragons pumps through the speakers overhead. My foot taps along to the beat.
Ian returns with a few beers for the table. “Two dollar beers. I fucking love college night.”
Reese reaches for his mug, his other arm permanently fixated around Dylan. “Don’t you feel old being here with this crowd? I feel like everyone’s looking at me like I’m a chaperone.” He tugs at the knot in his tie, loosening it.
Joey chuckles. “Uh, no. They’re looking at you ‘cause you’re a DILF.”
Reese frowns. “A what?”
“A DILF.” Dylan rests her head on his shoulder, grinning. “Dad I’d like to fuck.”
“Get the hell out of here,” he mutters, lifting his beer to his mouth.
“You’re sexy, Reese. Own it.” Joey holds up his mug. “You know who else is sexy?” He quickly kisses Billy. “Besides my baby.”
I swirl my straw around in my glass. A group of women giggle obnoxiously at the next table. One of them nearly falls off her stool.
The drinks must be flowing over there.
“Brooke.”
My eyes lift to Joey’s. “What?”
“I asked a question.”
“So?”
He gapes at me, then sweeps a hand in front of him. “So . . . would you like to let the table know who you think is sexy? Everyone is dying to hear what you have to say.”
Jesus. He is laying it on thick tonight.
I stand and smooth the hem of my dress down. No need to partake in this conversation.
“Me. I think I’m sexy as hell.” I blow Joey a kiss. “Be back. I’m going to hit up the ladies’.”
Joey rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath before he turns to Billy and engages him in conversation. I move past them, heading for the crowd I need to get through to reach the restrooms.
“Nice shoes, Brooke. Am I going to be getting those back any time soon?” Dylan’s voice at my back halts me.
I spin around, glancing down at the pink Steve Madden’s I have yet to return. They work amazing with this dress. With my legs. In all honestly, it would’ve been a tragedy not to wear them.
Lifting my head, I limply shrug. “I figured I’d break them in for you since your feet are too swollen to wear heels right now.”
Dylan’s face falls. She glances down at the black strappy sandals on her feet, grumbling, “I’m so over being pregnant.” She whips her head around. “This is it, Reese. Three and we’re done. No more kids.”
Reese leans back to look at her, a deep frown line setting in his forehead. “What? I thought we had agreed on four. What happened to that?”
The look that creeps across Dylan’s face has my feet firmly planted where they are, willing to stick around for another minute. It also seems to pull everyone else’s attention across the table.
Juls with her wide, curious eyes as she slowly brings her drink to her mouth. Joey, grinning enormously, drumming his fingers on the table and practically crawling across it to get a better view. Billy and Ian both take another route and reach into their pockets for their phones, deciding it’s best they look busy and uninterested in Reese’s potential demise.
I bet everyone seated at this table has had this ‘don’t fuck with me’ look directed at them at one point. I know I’m familiar with it. Back when I first started working at the bakery I saw this look quite a lot.
And Reese? His ass has definitely seen it.
Turning on his stool, Reese gently smiles at Dylan before moving in for a kiss. “Love.”
She pushes against his chest. “I’m sorry, are you the one carrying a watermelon around twenty-four seven? Are you giving up sushi and fantastic fucking footwear for nine months? Mm? No, you’re not. You can eat what you want, you aren’t bloated and sweaty all the time, and your downstairs region isn’t going to be pushing out a human. I’ve been pregnant for the last four years. Four years, Reese. Do you have any idea how exhausting this is for me? I got up eleven times last night just to go to the bathroom. Did you know that?”