“I shouldn’t be jealous, but . . .”
“There’s a word for people who claim they’re never jealous,” Drew tells me.
I lift my face out of his shoulder and look at him. “What’s that?”
“Liars.” He pauses to let that sink in. “Or sociopaths, maybe. It’s a normal human emotion.”
I let out a watery laugh. “Well, I guess I’m not a liar. Or a sociopath.”
“That’s a relief,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s okay to be jealous, Ally. If you want to put up a poster of Sarah and throw darts at her, I won’t think less of you.”
I laugh again. “I suck at darts. And I’d ruin your wall.”
I feel his shoulders move as he shrugs. “It’d be a souvenir of the time Ally Parker lived in my condo.”
Somehow Drew knows exactly what to say. It’s a shame he isn’t looking for a relationship, because he’d make some lucky woman very happy.
“You know,” I say thoughtfully. “If I were still playing pro tennis, I’d never get the chance to fake a relationship with Drew Malone.”
I feel his arm tighten around my shoulder. “That’s true.”
I turn my face into his shoulder again, enjoying the feel of him. Solid and safe, and surprisingly comfortable.
He pulls away far too soon. “Okay,” he says briskly, unwrapping his arm from around my shoulder. “We should get ready for the barbecue.”
“So these are friends from work?” I ask Drew as we drive to the barbecue. By unspoken agreement, we’re not talking about tennis, or about the fact I cried on his shoulder this morning.
“Yeah,” he says, glancing over at me. “You might not remember, but you met Luke in the coffee line a couple weeks ago. The day we were talking about our relationship.”
“Oh, right. He’s a surgeon too?”
“Yeah, general surgery. He lives with his girlfriend, Melissa, and her kids. They dated in high school and got back together last fall.”
“Wow. That sounds like an interesting story.”
“Yeah,” Drew says with a grin. “And I think Austin will be there, he’s a plastic surgeon. And Sophie Kaminsky, the doctor you met in the ER. I think she went to high school with Melissa.”
“Okay.” So most of his friends are doctors. I’m sure they’ll all be wondering what Drew Malone’s doing with an admin assistant.
“What have you told your friends about our relationship?”
“Not a lot,” he replies. “Just that we’re dating.”
“But this won’t be like it was at the Tates’, right?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Like, we don’t need to convince them we’re madly in love?”
“I guess not. Maybe just mildly infatuated?””
I nod. “So I don’t need to call you Honeybun?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Not unless you want me to retaliate, Cuddlebug.”
“Cuddlebug?” I echo. “I kind of like that, actually.”
“No you don’t, Ally. Your taste is far too good for that.”
