Before Him

“I suppose I am more what you might call adaptable. Not that adaptable,” he adds with a low chuckle in response to Jenner’s sudden perkiness.

“Didn’t you get my text?” I ask. Snark. Because state your business and be gone. I have a milk order to place and things to overthink. Plus, Annie will be here with Wilder soon and—

“You sent him a text and didn’t tell me?” We both ignore Jenner’s interjection.

“I was just passing.” Roman gives a casual shrug.

“So you thought you would, what? Just pop in?”

“For an affogato,” he says as though I’m hard of hearing. “You know what, I’m feeling vanilla. I don’t suppose you’ve got any out the back, Jen, have you?”

“Oh!” Jenner clutches his hand to his chest. “I have a nickname. Did you hear that? That means he and I are friends.” He sends me a syrupy smile. “Don’t be jealous—we can still be besties. Just not when your ex-husband is around.”

I am so pleased the coffee shop is empty.

“Ex?” Roman’s amused attention slides from Jenner to me. “Did I miss something?”

“I didn’t say I’d gotten an annulment,” I say, barely turning to Jenner, annoyed and trying not to show it. “You just assumed, and I didn’t have the bandwidth to correct you. Also, this here,” I add, pointing negligently over the counter, “is husband only on a technicality.” I never realised up until now that, in Jenner’s world, a pretty face seems to excuse almost anything.

“The technicality being the whole still married thing,” Roman adds.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mention it again.” We agreed Wilder has enough to deal with without learning his (soon-to-be) newfound father and I are getting a divorce. “Unless you want to chip into Wilder’s therapy bill.”

“You’re the one who told your BFF.”

And with friends like him . . .

“Yes.” I swing back to Jenner, who quickly swaps out an avid look for contrite. “Am I your BFF? What is that? Boss for firing?”

“You’re gonna fire yourself?” One pale eyebrow curls like a taunt.

“You. I was thinking I might fire you.”

“Like I told you before, you love me. And this attitude you see here?” he says, angling his gaze Roman’s way. “This is how she chooses to express her love.”

“Mate, she must really fucking love me,” Roman quips.

“Would you be quiet,” I snipe, swinging around to glare at him.

“You know, you might be onto something there.” My head snaps back to Jenner. I swear this feels like some bad taste comedy skit. “It’s like that whole romance trope thing. You know, the grumpy and the sunshiny one. Only you guys are in reverse.”

I close my eyes and inhale, count to five, and open them again. “The vanilla ice cream needs replacing,” I say calmly. “Jenner, would you take care of that, please?”

“You want me to go now?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

“I could be gone a while.”

“I’m sure I’ll cope.”

“You know, that freezer is a mess.”

“You could try tidying it while you’re there. Or you could pretend to, then listen in to our conversation at a discreet distance.”

“I like that plan.” He turns and slices his hand through the curtain before adding, “Y’all speak up now!”

I turn back to Roman, resigned, rubbing a knuckle in the corner of my eye. I kept my promise, have you kept yours? is what I expect, but I’m surprised when Roman says, “You seem tired.”

“Not you, too,” I grumble. “I will not wear a full face of makeup just to please the men in my life.”

“The men in your life?”

“You and Jenner. Even Wilder said—” I clamp my mouth closed.

“So not Drew?” Airy words. Shit-eating grin.

“Just give him time,” I say with a sigh.

“I’d rather give him the boot, but I’m not the one going to dinner with him.”

“That’s right. You’re not.” Even if I think I would prefer if that were the case. “Because I am.”

“I can offer you dessert later,” he offers immediately and with a very brazen wink.

In answer, I press my fist to my hip and send him the most withering look I can muster. I think it was a pretty convincing one, considering where my mind went at his words. Talk about the power of suggestion. My whole body was hijacked for a beat, enjoying a little sensory memory. His tongue between my legs, the dark blue of his eyes watching my every reaction. Maybe I should ask to see his degree accreditation. I wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d earned it psychology and not agriculture.

“I know.” He holds up, warding off hands. “That was naughty.” Nor-dee. “But I reckon that’s the way you like me.”

“Gone is how I like you.” I wave in the direction of the door. “That way, be gone!” Why do I have to dig his ridiculousness? This push and pull shouldn’t feel so good, should it? Because, God, it does. Maybe not good in the wholesome sense but in the Imma climb over this counter and throw you down on the floor kind of good.