My breathing slowed, and I willed my limbs to not make any sudden movements. I didn’t want to break the mood. I was a walking contradiction, ignoring the warning sign flashing in my mind. For the good of the bet, we should have stopped the conversation right there. It was too dangerous. Too cozy. I had told him too much. It was exactly what Jake would have wanted to happen.
But Jake hadn’t been a part of this date, and I wasn’t ready for him to make an appearance.
“Is that what happened to you? Were you too naive?” I sucked in a breath, waiting for him to shut this down.
There was a long pause before he said, “Yeah. The untold tragic tale of a lucky childhood.”
“Your parents are awesome.”
“I know.”
I knew he was finished, even as I hoped for more. He had given me a crumb into his past. The tiniest gift ever. But I wanted to guard it and keep it safe because I knew the admission had cost him something. So, I held out my fist. He stared at me, confusion wrinkled in his brow.
“Here’s to hugging our parents more, being less naive, and making better choices.” I waved my fist in front of him expectantly.
A smile swept across his face even while he shook his head. He held out his hand, but instead of bumping my fist, he held it in his palm. “I never knew how weird you were, Jailbait. You know, other than the love notes and the laundry room.”
I moved in closer to push against his hand. Teasing. But he kept his hold on me a moment longer than necessary. The ever-evolving mood between us had changed once again, and prickles of awareness began spilling out across my body. His eyes were almost hidden from me in the dark, but I felt them everywhere, igniting fires across my body. I wanted him to kiss me, I realized. It was happening just as I had predicted—the worst-case scenario playing out before my very eyes.
He blinked, his body giving the tiniest jerk like he was awakening from a dream. He released me, sat up, and ran a hand through his hair.
“I’d better get you home, Jailbait. Or else Jake will have the shotgun out.”
17
Tessa
“It’s been forty-eight hours. Are we to the point where we can laugh about you tackling Camille, yet?” Kelsey asked over the phone on Monday afternoon. “Because I could be there if you are…”
“No,” I said, adding the last cup of flour to the mixer. I had gotten most of my work done earlier this afternoon. My mom was covering the produce stand, so I snuck into the kitchen to relieve some stress.
“Are you sure?”
“Kels, Ismashedinto her with a huge box of tampons that went flying. NO.”
There was a long, suspicious silence on her end. I patiently waited for her to catch her breath.
“Sorry. I was…about to sneeze.”
“I hate you. How are my favorite twins doing?” I asked, changing the subject while turning the KitchenAid on.
“I had my four-month check up this morning, and everything looks great. And I finally don’t feel like puking all day.”
I laughed. “Have you guys picked names yet?”
Kelsey groaned. “None that we can agree on. He’s convinced he wants Dodger for one and Hank for the other.”
“Wait. Dodger, like his horse on your dad’s farm?”
“Dodger like The Dodgers and Hank like Hank Aaron. Baseball stuff.”
I smiled while I prepared the raspberry filling. “Oh. And you don’t want Dodger and Hank?”
“Would you?”
I laughed. “I’m still holding out hope that the technician read the ultrasound wrong and they’re really girls with an extra finger or something.”
“Don’t curse the ultrasound. I’m finally accepting the fact that I’ll be a boy mom and outnumbered by two more mini-Cades.”
