Page 59 of Worth the Wait

“That’s like oral sex times one thousand.”

“Shh. Quiet down, you horny pregnant woman.” I laugh.

She leans back in her chair, hands folded over her swollen belly, and stares at me. “So, are you going to elaborate on what is going on here between you and Mr. Sex on a Stick in there? Does he sex you so good you say blah-blah-blah?”

“Who said...we haven’t...it’s just⁠—”

“Sounds like someone’s saying blah-blah-blah”—she laughs—“so I’ll put a checkmark in the incredible-sex box, thank you very much.”

“He’s just...infuriating. And does everything just right. And he—gah—he doesn’t back down—and, never mind. It’s hard to explain.”

Her laugh is full and her belly moves with it. “Those are the best kind of men, sweetheart.” And of course, she would know, given her husband. She’s clearly amused by my inability to talk coherently. “The ones who you can’t describe and can’t stop thinking about.”

“Whatever. You know me, I don’t get like that with guys.”

“Uh-huh,” she says with a lift of her brows and a knowing smile.

“Seriously. He’s just nice, and it’s been a while since I’ve met a decent and nice guy⁠—”

“Who’s incredible in bed. Comes over and fixes your broken pipes⁠—”

“How did you⁠—?”

She holds up her hand to cut me off. “Grant told me,” she says, throwing me for a loop.

“Wait, you knew about him and didn’t tell me?”

“Ha. Don’t get your feelings hurt, sister, because it’s not like you told me about him either.” She holds her finger up to stop me when I begin to talk. “I’m not finished with my list yet.”

“You and your lists.”

“Where was I? Oh. Right. Who’s teaching you self-defense. Who’s installing an alarm system. Who has you stuttering out a response.” She eyes me. “Should I continue?”

Our eyes meet, hold, and then I lower mine to look at my hands folded and fidgeting on the table. “It’s complicated,” I murmur as Reznor walks past the window, phone to his ear, the tenor of his laugh soft so as to not wake up Taylor but still vibrating to where we’re sitting.

“He fits in seamlessly,” she says. “Even the dogs don’t get worked up over him like they do everyone else.”

I nod and stare at him through the window as the drill sounds off and he reaches above his head to install an infrared monitor.

How was it that two months ago I didn’t even know him? It’s almost as if I can’t remember not having him here or nearby...and that’s scary. He fits in seamlessly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

I sputter and then choke on a breath as I rip my eyes from him and look at her wide-eyed and in disbelief. “Will you shut up?” I gasp. “You’re being utterly ridiculous.”

A smile curls up one side of her lips. “You never answered my question. Are you?”

“How can you even ask me that?” I glance to where Reznor was to make sure he’s still there and out of earshot of this asinine conversation. “I’ve known him less than two months.”

Memories of growing up flicker in my mind: a new man would start coming around, a new declaration of love by my mother shortly thereafter, a swift departure by said man within weeks.

That’s not me. I’m not her.

“Two months...meh.” Emerson shrugs. “I know people who have fallen in love in a lot less time.”

“We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not? Does it make you uncomfortable?” I hate the cat ate the canary grin and how her words are making my mind spin and question and wonder.