“That’s not dinner,” River said. It smelled too sweet to be dinner. Something nutty… apples, cinnamon. Definitely some butter. His mouth was watering.
“Leftovers for dinner,” Jem reminded him, “since you obviously didn’t break for lunch.”
River felt a little like a scolded cat.
“Welp, that’s my cue,” Ward said cheerfully. “Later, River. Nice seeing you, Jem.”
Eric fled after him.
“Sorry I forgot to eat lunch,” River said into a silence that suddenly felt loud.
Jem only shook his head and pulled him in with two fingers in each belt loop. “Nah. Are you kidding? This way I had time to make dessert.” He planted a soft, cinnamon-flavored kiss on River’s lips. Someone had been sampling the goods, and River was tempted to do the same. How long before it cooled enough that River could eat it off of him?
Who was he kidding; he wasn’t going to wait that long. “So, want to kill half an hour?”
After workon Thursday, Jem dropped by Tori and Ivy’s to deliver the extra Huguenot torte—and almost dropped it when Ivy opened the door.
“Hey, stranger.” She beamed and backed away to let him inside. “Wow, it’s been a long time, huh? Nice car.”
“Nicecar?” Jem asked. He wanted to gesture, but all he could really do was wave the casserole dish. “Nice baby bump, Ives. When did this happen?” The last time he’d seen her, she was noticeably pregnant, sure, but even with the bump, she was stilldainty. Now her belly was in a whole other time zone.
She swatted at him as he toed off his shoes. “It popped last week. I’m starting to worry the baby’s going to come out already Jem-sized.”
“Oh,” Jem said, “so you don’t want the torte—”
Her reflexes hadn’t dulled any; her tiny hand clamped around his wrist before he could even pretend to turn around to go home. “Leave the cake and no one gets hurt, Jem.”
He grinned and gestured to the stairs. “In that case, after you. Tori not home yet?” He followed carefully behind her, ready just in case he had to drop the dessert and catch Ivy, but she seemed to be getting around fine.
“No.” Ivy lowered herself into a kitchen chair. “The fifth-graders are putting on some kind of play, and she got roped into being the musical director. She’s got practice for another half hour.”
Right—Jem had forgotten. In fairness, his head was pretty full of other stuff lately.
Or at least one other thing.
“Right, yeah, the Cat in the Hat one?”
“I think so.” Ivy waited while Jem plated up a portion and put it in the microwave to heat. Cold food and pregnancy, she had informed him several weeks previously, did not mix for her. “So.”
Jem kept his eyes on the microwave. “So?”
He could feel her eye roll. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of the visit, Jem? Seems like it’s kinda been a while. Not that I am complaining, mind you, I’m thrilled you’re getting around on your own again, but you didn’t bake me a Huguenot torte for my health.”
Nobody baked for their health; there was way too much butter in this thing. “I can’t just stop by and see my favorite best-friend-in-law?”
“Oh, no, you absolutely can, especially if you bring me presents.” She smiled as he put the bowl in front of her. “But you didn’t, so cut the crap and tell me what’s going on. Or do you want to wait for Tori?”
Why did she say that like it was a threat? “No, it’s fine, I just….” He bit his lip. “How much did she tell you?”
“Enough to know you’ve gone off-book and you haven’t slept at home this week.” Ivy shoveled in a bite of dessert. “Oh my God, fuck you. This is so good.”
“What? Oh.” Jem rubbed the back of his neck. “I actually meant about, uh, Andrew.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re not here about River?”
“Why would I be here about River? Things with River are great.” Sex: great. Kitchen: great. Having his own car again: great. Waking up in the middle of the night because he hadto pee only to find River softly playing guitar in the moonlight coming through the living room window: surprisingly great.
She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “I don’t know, because you’re getting paid to sleep with a guy you definitely have feelings for?”
