“My diamond dazzlers,” he murmurs, chin resting on his fist as he stares at us. “And Jennie, you’re still not feeling the kiss at the end?”
“Still not feeling it.”
He raises his hands in defeat. “Well, okay. I think you two have got this thing nailed down anyway. You’d never know you aren’t a real couple.” He checks his watch. “Okay, I’ve got a meeting in ten and a lunch date later at Rapscallion. You two should head home for some rest. You’ve earned it. Let’s not stretch ourselves.”
“Thanks, Mik.” I grab my yoga pants and wiggle them over my ass. “Make sure you get the oysters. They’re—” I bring the tips of my fingers to my lips, kissing them, “—chef’s kiss.”
Simon snakes his arm around my shoulders when I’m finished dressing. “Wanna grab some lunch? Mexican? Italian? Oooh, what about Thai?”
My stomach grumbles. “I could absolutely fuck with some Thai, but I’m heading to Hank’s with Carter.”
“Dinner?’
“Can’t.” I’ve got a large and extremely sexy hockey player at home who flies out later tonight. I plan to make use of our fleeting hours.
Simon puts his hand over his heart. “You’re killing me, Beckett.”
There’s an easiness to my laugh. Things have been smooth sailing with Simon since his apology. Our upcoming show means lots of late nights together practicing and finishing on the floor of the studio with a box of takeout. Things have been perfectly platonic, and it feels nice to have a friend.
“We can do Thai tomorrow,” I tell him.
“Deal.” With a hug, he sends me through the front door, where Carter is waiting by the curb.
“Jennie,” Carter calls rather loudly, arms waving. “Jennie! I’m right here!” His legs eat the distance between us as he scowls at Simon. “Jennie,” he scolds, tucking me beneath his arm. “What have I told you about hanging out with douchebags?”
“Don’t?”
“That’s fucking right.” He opens my door and gives Simon a dazzling smile. “Bye, Steve!”
Carter’s overprotective dad-bro stints—especially the ones where he’s intent on embarrassing me via shouting my names and waving like one of those wacky inflatable flailing arm things you see at car dealerships—are beyond irritating, but I’m too happy to care right now.
He’s been especially suffocating since the movie theater shitstorm with Kevin. He blames himself, which is absurd, but Carter’s always been one to think he could’ve somehow been better. He thinks he should’ve dropped everything to be with me when Garrett mentioned I had a bad day. The only good thing to come out of this is Carter not questioning me and Garrett getting closer as friends.
Anyway, Carter’s been extra attentive, which means by the time we’re at Hank’s, I’m unwrapping my breakfast sandwich from McDonald’s while sipping my apple crisp macchiato from Starbucks, because Carter went through two different drive-thrus for me.
“How come she got Starbucks and I’m drinking McDonald’s coffee?” Hank grumbles.
“You like McDonald’s coffee! You said you prefer it!”
“I think you’re making things up,” Hank argues, nudging me with his elbow when Carter sighs loudly. “Riling him up is so much fun.”
“I totally agree.” I slip Dublin a bite of my hash brown. “That’s why you and I are such great friends.”
“So how come Carter picked you up today? Didn’t he lend you one of his cars?”
“It’s snowy today. I get anxious driving in the snow.” And sometimes I accidentally run into stop signs in my brother’s hundred-thousand-dollar Benz; sue me.
Hank’s hand searches for mine. He squeezes, and so does my heart. “That’s okay, sweetheart. You drive when you feel comfortable.”
“In the spring, I think.”
“Well, how you gonna get to school then?” Carter asks, huffing.
“The same way I did before. On the bus.” I watch as he peels apart his breakfast sandwiches and proceeds to stack all three sausage patties together. He’s acting grumbly, but he’s actually in a good mood because he and Olivia went for an ultrasound this morning. So I try my luck. “Garrett gave me a ride this morning.”
Two rides, technically. One to school, and before that, one on his face. Both were enjoyable, but the latter more so, for obvious reasons.
Carter’s head whips. “Huh?”
I take an extra-large gulp of my coffee, nodding. “I ran into him this morning. He offered to drop me off.”
“Oh.” Carter blinks. Three times. Then he lifts his triple-decker sandwich to his mouth and takes a gigantic bite. “O-tay. Dat nice ub him.”
“You’re nearly twenty-nine years old. Would it kill you to swallow before you speak?”
Hank pats my hand. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Carter can’t be changed.”
Maybe, but a year ago I would’ve never expected him to be sitting here playing the audio of his unborn baby’s heartbeat on repeat.
“Doc said his heart’s beating at a hundred-and-sixty-two beats per minute. Faster than the rest already.”
“Only you would be competitive about fetal heart rates,” I murmur.
Hank grins. “Guess you never heard the old wives’ tale that a high heartbeat is a sign of a girl?”
Carter snorts. “Yeah, okay, Hank. Whatever.”
“Ireland and I always wanted a little girl,” Hank says wistfully. “Tried for years, and it shattered her when it didn’t work. My heart broke because I couldn’t give her what she wanted, and I wanted to give her the whole world.” He pats the corner of his eye and smiles, clasping both our hands. “Might’ve taken a lot longer than I thought, but eventually I got my girl and my boy. Maybe a little more arrogant than I’d imagined, but I love you both all the same, and I know Ireland brought you into my life.”
My nose tingles and wrinkles. “I don’t come here to cry, Hank. Stop making me feel things.”
“Someone’s got to. You two Beckett’s tend to be pretty closed off until someone comes knocking on your walls.” His gaze wanders, and he manages to make me feel like he’s staring right into my soul when it finally stops, pinpointing me. “Carter’s already let someone knock down his walls. When are you going to let someone do the same for you?”
“Jennie!”
I glance over my shoulder in my strut across the lobby. The strut would be more impressive if I hadn’t settled on my moccasin slippers when leaving this morning. To be fair, I was in a rush. Garrett got me naked, then he got me dressed. Then I accidentally got him naked, and then we accidentally tumbled into the shower, and I’m betting the imprint of the shower tiles is still lingering on my knees. My point is I had exactly one minute to change into fresh clothes and slip on a pair of shoes.
Emily dashes toward me from the concierge desk. “Oh, you’re here. Thank God.”
I press the call button for the elevator. “I live here. Where else would I be?”