What Lovers Do

Shep’s brows slowly lift as his lips curl inward. This time I kick him under the table. He’s being a bit too obvious.

“You know what’s another good show to binge watch?” Deb asks.

Then she tells us about every show we need to watch—covering Hulu, Netflix, HBO, Showtime, and other streaming services I’ve never heard of before now. One of the shows has a main character who is transgender, which leads into Deb and Tony expressing their concern for their granddaughter who recently revealed that she’s transgender. We learn the names of all of her transgender friends and their new transgender names and how confusing that is for family and friends to keep track of new names and proper pronouns. On the heels of that admission, they go into great detail about their upbringing and how woke they are now—totally supportive of the LGBTQ community (although they miss a few letters)—Tony says, “The LB whatever etcetera etcetera people,” and I cringe wondering if anyone else hears him.

It’s not that he’s meaning to be disrespectful; he’d just be better off not saying anything at all than saying it all wrong, even if it’s an accident. My “squatter” comment doesn’t seem as bad now. While I notice my own smile feeling stiff and beginning to crack, I glance at Shep and he’s wearing the same cringe-worthy expression.

They just won’t shut up.

“Oh. Excuse me.” I interrupt and bring my phone to my ear.

Deb stops talking for a few seconds.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry. Let me get where I can talk in private,” I say to my phone and the imaginary person who I’m talking to. “Shep. We have to go. It’s an emergency.” I don’t know why, but I jump to my feet and grab his hand, pulling him to stand. “So sorry,” I mouth to Deb and Tony.

“Take care,” Shep says as I lead him to the door and straight toward the Mustang, keeping ahold of his hand the whole time.

“Before I sound like an insensitive ass by thanking you for getting us out of that torturous situation, can you confirm that you just took a fake call and there is no real emergency?”

I laugh. It’s all I can do as I start to release his hand when we get to the car.

His grip tightens as he stops, turning me toward him. Nothing … he says nothing which feels intimate because he’s holding my hand and we’re really close.

That sly grin of his makes an appearance two seconds before he speaks. “This was a good idea.”

In lieu of speaking, I return several lightning quick nods that don’t require breathing. When he appears satisfied with my level of discomfort, he releases my hand and opens the car door for me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It’s a fifteen-minute drive to his parents’ house, and I can’t find anything to say, but neither can he until we walk in the front door.

“I’ll grab a quick shower and put something on the grill.”

“I’ll be in the pool,” I say, hustling to the bathroom to put some distance between us while my thoughts untangle from his … Gah! His everything. It’s not okay for friends to have inappropriate thoughts about each other, yet here I am, my mind in the gutter.

As I finish slipping on my bikini, my cell phone rings. “Hey, Jules. How’s the wedding?”

“It’s rehearsal dinner later. I’m getting a pedicure at the moment. Just seeing how you’re feeling.”

“I’m fine. Why?” I adjust my top and inspect myself in the full-length mirror.

“Just seeing if morning sickness has hit.”

“Oh. That. No. Not yet. Maybe I won’t get it. Not everyone does.”

“I hope not for your sake. I think it should be a rule that if you’re carrying a child for someone else, you shouldn’t get sick.”

“You haven’t told anyone, have you? Chloe would kill me if it got out.”

“Of course not. I can keep a secret, ya know. So what are you up to this weekend? Jimmy still trying to woo you with his lazy ass?”

“No. I golfed this morning.”

Not a lie.

“Is your dad visiting?”

“No.”

Not a lie.

“Who did you golf with?”

“Myself.”

Half lie.

“Can you do that? Can you play golf by yourself?”

I chuckle. “Yes. You can play golf by yourself.”

Still, not a lie.

“Sophie, the switch to open the cover to the pool is in the box next to the heat lamp,” Shep yells upstairs.

I press my hand against my phone’s speaker, but I’m not sure it’s fast enough.

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?”

“Sophie. I heard a guy. Something about a pool cover?”

“It was Jimmy.”

Here come the lies …

“It didn’t sound like Jimmy. And you don’t have a pool. Where are you?”

“Nowhere—”

“Sophie, you’re in Sedona.”

I cringe. Jules and I follow each other’s location. Stupid, stupid me for forgetting to shut that off.

“I am.” I bite my lips together and wait for her to ask the questions so I can determine how many lies I can believably feed to her—how deep can I dig this hole I’m in.