I Never Let You Go (I Never 3)

She finally gives in, pulling her chair out and taking a seat. “You know some things may have changed over the years, but patience is not one of them.”

She crosses her arms and pouts. When she sticks her bottom lip out, I want to claim it. Get your thoughts together, Finn. Or you’re never going to get through this lunch without your cock busting through your pants. No pun intended.

To keep things G-rated or on the friend scale,

I just nod. “Good to know.”

I open the bag and peek over at her. She looks just like a little girl on Christmas morning waiting to see what Santa brought her.

I reach in and pull out multiple Tupperware containers. I hear her gasp. “Oh my God, when you said you were going to bring lunch, I thought you just meant that you were going to pick up lunch on the way. I didn’t realize you meant that you were going to make lunch.”

I laugh because Kelsey had the same reaction when she found me in the kitchen putting all of this together early this morning when she came to get a bottle for Liam.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops for this, huh?” Kelsey asked in shock as she watched me move around her kitchen with ease, cooking yet again.

“She’s worth it.”

Hell, yes, Lauren is worth it all. I begin to open the lids. My stomach rumbles when the delicious aroma of Old Bay hits my nostrils.

“First up, I made my grandma’s famous shrimp macaroni salad.” My dad’s mom lives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and when I visited, I was taught to put Old Bay on everything. Lauren joined us on many trips there, and my grandma quickly figured out how much Lauren loved this dish, so she always made sure to have it made when she knew we were coming.

Lauren’s eyes widen, and she fails at hiding the smile taking over her face. “Oh my God, seriously?” I nod. “You have no idea how many times I have tried to mimic this recipe and could never get the spices right.”

“You know I can’t tell you that—Reynolds family secret.” I wink and turn back to opening the rest of the containers. “And I assume you are still a fan of tomato, mozzarella?”

I grab utensils out of the bag and set them down before dragging a chair over, taking a seat next to her.

When I look up again, Lauren is staring at me, lost in thought.

“You going to join or just stare at me eating all this food because let me tell you, my stomach was growling the entire time I made it this morning.”

She shakes whatever thoughts were taking over her mind as she scoots forward. When our eyes meet again, I notice the glassiness in her eyes. I place my hand over hers. “What’s wrong? Are you angry with me or upset?” Did I mess this up? Bring up too many memories?

“No, these aren’t sad or angry tears. They’re traitorous tears,” Lauren laughs and wipes her eyes. “I just can’t believe that you did all of this.” She pulls her hand from mine and extends it over the assortment of food I prepared. “You went through all of this, and I didn’t do anything.”

I shake my head. “No, you did.” Her head tilts to the side as I take a bite of macaroni salad. “You said ‘okay.’”

There’s that blush again. I settle back into my seat as she searches for something. I spy the napkin-wrapped fork and pick it up, holding it out for her.

“You really did think of everything, didn’t you?” Our fingertips slightly touch as she takes it from my grasp, and it takes everything in me not to link our fingers together.

Lauren finally dives into her container of macaroni salad. I can remember numerous family gatherings where Lauren went back for two or three helpings of this.

I know I did well when she not only does a little happy dance in her chair with her eyes closed, but she closes her eyes and lets out the tiniest moans. I try to adjust myself without her noticing. When I see her eyes are still closed, I know I’m safe.

“I take it I make it just as good as Grandma Rose? I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment.”

Her eyes flash open locked on mine, and she shrugs, “Eh, it’s okay,” she jokes.

We are back to comfortable joking between the two of us, and she even tries to steal a shrimp from my container. It’s as if no time has passed.

“So how do you like being an uncle?” she asks, taking another forkful of food.

“It’s great. I mean, Liam isn’t even one yet, but I know that when he’s older, I’ll get him all hyped up on sugar and then return him.”

She laughs and covers her mouth, keeping the food inside. “That’s how I feel about Emme.”

“She was the flower girl at your brother’s wedding, right?”