She laughs now and brings the blanket up and over her head, shielding herself from my deathly glare. My eyes attempt to burn holes through the white sheets, but I fail miserably despite my brain playing tricks on me, making me think I see the start of some smoke.
“Penny Lawes, lower that blanket this once.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Penny . . .”
“May I remind you, I’m pregnant, with child, your child, and things I might say could be out of context. I can’t control the emotions.” She peeks over the top of the blanket. “You do have smaller calves.”
Nostrils flared, I slowly say, “I suggest you take that back, Miss Lawes, or you’re not going to like what happens next.”
“And what perchance is going to happen next?”
I give it some thought. Normally, if we were romantically involved, I’d do something like pin her down and claim her mouth, but we’re not going down that path, therefore, I need to hit her where it hurts.
“You know how there’s a whole cinnamon bun in the fridge?”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “You wouldn’t.”
I shrug. “I have no problem doing the dirty work. You know, unless you want to take what you said back . . .”
She rolls her eyes while lowering the blanket. “Fine, I was only kidding. But you do realize that you are quite perfect, and it’s annoying. Therefore, I need to find fault somewhere, even if it’s a lie.”
I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. I might seem perfect from the outside. I’m not going to lie here and say I’m not attractive. I know that I am—that’s not being conceited, it’s just facts. And my hockey skills are clearly good enough to warrant a starting position on a professional hockey team. And I’m a decently nice guy as well. But there’s a lot about me that is not perfect. I have my flaws, and I know them quite well.
But just because I have them doesn’t mean I need to bring them to Penny’s attention.
I loved my mom dearly, but growing up before she passed away, all I heard about was my father’s inadequacies and her frustrations with him. Penny seems like a good person, and I don’t think she’d do the same, but either way, I don’t want to feed her fodder.
I’d prefer to remain perfect in her mind.
“Well, keep looking for faults,” I say in a teasing tone. “I doubt you’ll find any.”
Chapter Thirteen
PENNY
Penny: Am I sending this text message to Blakely? Just triple-checking before I state what I need to state.
Blakely: Confirmed, you are texting Blakely, your best friend. You may proceed with all embarrassing things.
Penny: What is the secret password to receive all embarrassing text messages?
Blakely: Penis breath
Penny: And the pin number?
Blakely: 3003 < - - boob
Penny: And your mother’s maiden name?
Blakely: Honker Hoo Hoo < - - made up for our benefit
Penny: Lastly, the last four digits of your social security number.
Blakely: 4398
Penny: Processing . . . processing . . .
Blakely: crosses fingers
Penny: We have confirmed that you are, in fact, Blakely. Please wait for incoming embarrassment.
Blakely: pins and needles
Penny: I threw up in Eli’s shoe.
Blakely: WHAT? How?
Penny: He was in the bathroom, taking a shower, and I was in the closet trying to pick out an outfit for the day that didn’t touch me in a weird way. Recently, I’ve been feeling every thread in my clothes, and it’s really starting to drive me nuts.
Blakely: It’s an odd pregnancy side effect. I’ll agree to that. But please, back to the shoe.
Penny: I was attempting to pick out an outfit when a bout of nausea hit me. Since I haven’t thrown up since I started having morning sickness, I didn’t think much of it, but then I started to sweat.
Blakely: The sweats, nothing speaks more like a warning flag than the sweats.
Penny: And I wasn’t about to barge through the bathroom door, because he was naked and in the shower. I felt something coming up soon, so I found the closest vessel I could find, and it happened to be Eli’s shoe.
Blakely: Please describe the shoe.
Penny: Black loafer that he wears often with his suits, bedazzled in my regurgitated food.
Blakely: I know precisely what pair you’re talking about.
Penny: I threw up in it, and then I realized I threw up in a shoe and then threw up again. Strangely, my accuracy was impeccable.
Blakely: What did you do with the shoe?
Penny: That’s the worst part. Eli was looking for those particular shoes to wear to the arena today. He said they’re his lucky shoes against the Freeze.