While I eat, I search for Julia, and I spot her over by the food, where she’s chatting and laughing with Meg and my mom. I get that warm feeling in my chest again. That pack feeling. But this time, it isn’t real. Julia’s not planning to be around long term.
“They’re making friends,” Conall observes. “That’s good. Maybe when she sees Meg with her pups, she won’t be so eager to sign away her rights.”
I grunt and shovel in more food, unable to let myself hope. I thought this howl might be hard for Julia, but I didn’t think it would be so hard forme.
“Have you and Meg picked names?” I ask him, eager to get the attention off us.
“He’s naming at least one of them Ben,” Ben announces.
Conall nods, playing along. “We’re thinking Ben, Benji, Benzo, and Benita.”
I snort, choking on my beer, but Ben just nods, looking serious as usual. “Perfect.”
Chapter 20
Julia
The howl isn’t as bad as I thought it might be. Once everything is out in the open and I have a few minutes of persimmon-peeling to calm down, I kind of stop worrying about it. I can’t change our circumstances, can I?
Meg, who’s the most pregnant person I’ve ever seen, is adorable, and Ian’s mom, Caroline, is trying her best to stay positive, though I can tell by the crease in her brow when she looks at me that she wishes things were a little different.So do I, Caroline, Ithink, as we herd the kids away from the dessert table before they knock anything over.
“I hope your pups take after my boys,” she says, including me in her glance.
I share a grin with Meg. “What were they like as kids?”
“Utter sweethearts,” Caroline declares. “The most loving, best behaved pups you could wish for.”
A hand squeezes my shoulder. “That’s right,” Ian says behind me. “I was an angel.”
“Mam only thinks that because she was comparing us tothem. Single pups are easy once you’ve battled a litter of five,” Conall chimes in as the two guys join our little group. He slings his arm around Meg’s waist and licks up the side of her neck until she giggles and pushes him off.
“Five?” I squeak, turning to stare at Ian. I didn’t know their litters could be that big.
“It’s not that common.”
“Common enough,” Caroline says wryly.
“Dr. MacDougal says four is average,” Meg chimes in, rubbing her belly through her cute, pale-blue maternity sweater.
Withthatnew nugget of knowledge turning over in the back of my mind, I enjoy the rest of the howl, which is not too different from a human baby shower. There are games and toasts and gifts and musicand yes, howling. Meg and Conall get teased and spoiled. It’s fun, if a little overwhelming.
Ian sticks by my side for the rest of the evening, maintaining physical contact the whole time. Sometimes with his arm around my shoulders, sometimes a hand in the small of my back or a gentle grip on my knee when we’re sitting down. Once, he strokes the back of my neck, raising goosebumps on my arms. Nothing inappropriate, but my body is hyperaware of him, reacting every time he shifts or murmurs a relative’s name in my ear.
Even on the way home, all I can think about is his proximity. It’s ovulation week, I guess. I’m still in my fertile window, so my body is begging for the nearest source of sperm. If Richard were home, I’d probably be feeling the same way toward him.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway, but it has me so rattled that I point out my house when we get to the end of the cul-de-sac instead of letting him drop me off at Heidi and Nic’s.
He’s grinning at me when he pulls into the driveway. “The flowers,” he says, nodding at the porch.
“Oh. You like them? I got them on Saturday.” I feel myself warm, likeSaturdayis code forthe day we fucked at your kitchen table.
“I guessed this one was your house,” he says. Then, to answer the question that must have been on myface, he clarifies, “It’s the prettiest one. Thanks for trusting me with this, Julia.”
I nod, even though it wasn’t one-hundred-percent intentional. I trust him in my bones, even if that doesn’t make sense after knowing him for a little over two weeks. I guess it is instinctive trust rather than logical. The same instincts that are urging me to invite him inside.
Thankfully, my brain kicks in and overrides my body’s opinions. I cannot invite Ian into the house I share with my husband. “Thanks for the ride,” I force out.
“Thanks for coming to the howl. I think everyone really liked meeting you.”
