Ten minutes later, Josh is gagging on the final spoonful while Luke calmly swallows a puree of mushroom stroganoff with beans.
“I feel traumatised,” Josh groans, clutching a napkin like a flag of surrender.
“I quite enjoyed the bangers and mash,” Luke says mildly.
“You’re not normal, Pullman,” Chloe mutters.
Luke is crowned Baby Shower Champion with a sparkly plastic tiara, and Anjali immediately launches us into the grand finale: the nappy game.
She disappears into the kitchen to set up while the rest of the guests exchange the kind of weary looks I imagine prisoners of war might give each other before facing the firing squad.
“I don’t know why she thought this game would be cute,” Priya mutters, just as Anjali returns with a tray full of open nappies. She claps her hands and then passes the tray around, instructing everyone to take a long sniff and guess which chocolate bar it is.
“Number four smells like a crime scene,” Josh announces, inhaling dramatically.
“Pretty sure that’s the Double Decker,” I say, peering over his shoulder. “You can see what’s left of the nougat.”
“It’s not a crime scene, Josh. It’s a Snickers. Show some respect,” barks Anjali, rolling her eyes.
“I think I’ll pass on this round,” tries Luke, rising from his seat.
“Guess now, or you have to eat it,” Anjali says, with a surprising amount of force. Luke’s eyes widen and he sits back down immediately. It’s then that Chloe and I catch each other’s eyes and explode into giggles.
Who’d have thought five-foot nothing Anjali could top Luke? But then, he did tell me he was a switch…
As the games wind down and people revert to chatting and cooing over Priya and her bump, I retreat to the kitchen with a towering stack of plates and cups. Luke follows without a word, sleeves already rolled up. The domesticity of it is not lost on me and I feel a pang of some wordless desire in my chest.
“Not quite your usual Sunday, eh?” I tease, tipping glasses into the sink.
“I’ve seen worse,” he says. “Jessie once hosted a medieval night at Salt. I’ll spare you the details, but a turkey leg was involved.”
I groan at the mental image. “I’ll wash, you dry?”
“Deal.”
We slip into an easy rhythm, a quiet production line. Then he passes back a flute with a smudge.
“Your technique needs work,” he murmurs.
“Rude,” I shoot back. “Not all of us moonlight as bartenders.”
He chuckles and then sinks his hands into the water beside mine. Our fingers brush, then slot together beneath the suds.Hidden in plain sight. A tiny whimper escapes before I can stop it as his thumb strokes across my knuckles.
He leans into me and presses a soft kiss against my neck, every nerve ending in my body lighting up like a damn landing beacon directing him down to my clit. I take a deep breath and let it go suddenly as he begins to trace a delicate path up my neck with his tongue.
“We can’t,” I breathe.
“I know,” he whispers, stepping out of my space again. My neck feels cold without him there and I look down at our joined hands under the bubbles. Haven’t we always been hiding something deeper, tucked away under the froth and foam of our initial no-strings arrangement?
I’m lost in thought for a moment but my eyes flick up to find him looking at me hungrily. He squeezes my hand in the water, a thousand promises in the gesture.
And that’s the moment when Priya waddles into the kitchen. We break apart like we’ve been electrocuted.
“Have you seen the party bags?” she asks, looking between us both. “Anj wanted everyone to take home a few souvenirs.”
“I saw them in the pantry. Let me grab them for you,” replies Luke, drying his hands rapidly and disappearing for a moment.
Priya gives me a slightly appraising look, amusement in her eyes. She looks as if she’s about to say something when Luke appears with an armful of paper bags.
