“Did you just say a bachelor/bachelorette party is coming here?”
“It’s on the schedule,” Maverick says, and I shake my head before turning to the computer and pulling up the calendar, because I’m sure I would have remembered seeing that.
“It says Bach party,” I tell the room. “I thought that was the name of the group.”
“Nope,” Maverick replies, and I look up at him, since he’s still standing. “The couple who booked that party took part in one of our couples retreats last summer and are coming here with their friends for the weekend before their wedding.”
“Wow, okay,” I mutter. I mean, going out into the wilderness without a shower isn’t my idea of a good time, but to each their own, right? “Sounds fun,” I lie, and Blake chuckles while Maverick looks at him like he’s never heard him laugh before.
“We should get breakfast out to the group.” Blake stands suddenly, and Maverick checks his watch before looking at me.
“After I drop Blake off, I’ll be back. Do you want to have lunch then?”
“She needs to be here to answer the phone,” Blake says before I can open my mouth to respond, and Maverick turns slightly, raising a brow.
“We all get lunch.”
“Whatever,” Blake grumbles. “I gotta go.”
When he leaves, I catch Maverick’s lips tip up ever so slightly before he turns to face me, with the smile that was forming seconds ago now gone, like it didn’t even exist.
“I just remembered that I have something to do today, so I won’t be back until late. We’ll get lunch another time.”
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, and he lifts his chin before taking off. Since I know I won’t be able to figure out what that was all about, I get to work, because at the end of the day, providing for Sampson is the reason I’m here.
Chapter 4
EVERLY
“Are you excited about tonight?” my mom asks as she comes into the kitchen, where I’m attempting to feed Sampson his lunch, even though he’s more interested in making a mess with his spaghetti than actually eating it. It’s Sunday, and yesterday, we said farewell to the group of guests who had been in for a weeklong retreat.
“A little,” I tell her, scooping up another bite of noodles and using the airplane technique to urge him to take a bite. “It will be nice to meet Cybil, Tanner’s wife, since I’ve heard so much about her, and fun to see Sampson with Taylor, Margret’s daughter, since they’re so close in age.”
“I’m happy you’re going to be making some friends.”
“I have friends,” I say, leaving out that I don’t really have friends here, since I don’t talk to most of the people I grew up with anymore, and the few who I do still talk to have moved away and started families of their own.
“I mean real-life friends, not online friends.” Mom rolls her eyes. “And it’ll be good for you to have other mom friends.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“What about Mr. Grumpy Pants? Is he going to be there tonight?” she asks, and I know she’s referring to Blake, since that’s the name she made up for him after I told her about a few of our interactions, most of them including him grunting or grouching.
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing yes,” I reply, and she nods. The truth is, I’ve been seriously apprehensive about getting together with everyone outside of work. I probably would have said no to hanging out tonight, but both Tanner and Maverick laid on the guilt. And since they’ve been so nice to me, it didn’t feel right telling them no, like I’ve done before.
“It’s going to be great; I just know it.” She smiles, and I smile back, hoping she’s right.
This is so not great, I think to myself as I rock Sampson, who hasn’t stopped crying for the last fifteen minutes. When we arrived at Tanner and Cybil’s house—a house that is as beautiful on the outside as it is within—he was fine. He was his adorable self while meeting Tanner, Cybil, Maverick, Margret, and her daughter, Taylor, but then all hell broke loose. When he started to cry with no end in sight, I took up residence on the couch in the living room and haven’t moved since then, except to give him some Tylenol, figuring it’s his teeth that are bothering him.
Thankfully, with Margret having Taylor and Cybil being pregnant, there was nothing but understanding from the group as they went outside to the back porch to give us a little space.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” I kiss the top of his head and wonder if I should just call it a night and take him home. He’s never this cranky unless he’s not feeling great, and being in his own space might help calm him down.
Hearing the doorbell ring, I wait for someone to come inside to answer it, but when no one does and it rings again, I push up off the couch. I carry Sampson with me to the front door, then see Blake standing outside the glass, his eyes pointed down to his feet. Once I’m standing in front of it, his head lifts, his eyes meet mine, and, as always happens when it comes to him, my stupid hormones react.