The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue 2)

“No man should have final say over your wardrobe. He can have input at best.”

“But it’s his money,” she says.

“You don’t work?”

“Not unless you count raising three children work.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I? If you’re not making a salary for that, then a Gucci bag is the least he can do.”

“Does that really work?” she asks.

“If it doesn’t, calculate back pay on the hours you’ve worked since your firstborn. That’ll light a fire under his ass.”

She grins and holds out her hand. “We haven’t officially met, but I need to know you. I’m Lynn.”

Lynn and I talk fashion a little longer until she’s called away by her daughter.

I’m not alone long before another mom takes her place. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she says, scanning me from head to toe. “Which one’s yours?”

“None,” I say. “I’m a friend of the host.”

“Andrew?” She blinks. “A friend?”

I nod. “A very good one.”

“Oh. I love your dress.” Though it’s the exact same thing Lynn said, her tone is the opposite of warm and friendly. “It’s . . . festive.”

I grin, smoothing my hand over the front of it. “It is fabulous, isn’t it?” I say, as I turn and walk away. Maybe I can do this mom thing!

I spot Andrew before he sees me. He’s in conversation with a woman—there are a lot of them around—but he keeps looking past her, first at Bell, and then scanning the party. The woman leans in, laughs, and touches his bicep. He crosses his arms, nodding, but he definitely does not look as though he’s enjoying himself. When his eyes land on mine, he smiles widely, somehow brightening an already warm, sunny afternoon.

It’s all the signal I need. I beeline for him, focusing on the way he tracks my every step, his eyes skimming from my legs to my hips to my breasts and finally, my face. When the woman notices he isn’t listening to her, she pauses and follows his line of sight right to me.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says to me.

“Here I am.” I hold out my hand to her. “Amelia.”

She looks perplexedly at my hand before shaking it. “Kiki. Brynn’s mom.”

“Nice to meet you, Kiki Brynn’s Mom,” I say.

“You’re Bell’s aunt?” she asks.

Andrew lays a heavy arm around my shoulder and brings me into his chest. He kisses the top of my head. “Thankfully not, or that would be weird,” he says. “This is my girlfriend.”

My heart skips. I’m not used to the new designation, but my surprise is nothing compared to the shock on Kiki’s face. Her eyes flare open, and either she doesn’t have time to hide her envy or she doesn’t know how, because I read it loud and clear. I could teach her a thing or two about composure. “Oh—I . . . I didn’t know. When—? I thought—”

“Can you give us a minute, Kiki?” Andrew asks. “I haven’t seen Amelia in half an hour, and I’m dying to give her a real kiss.”

She scoffs, as if he’s affronted her somehow, and takes a step back. “Of course. Why would I mind?” She hurries away. I imagine her casting a glance over her shoulder, but I don’t get a chance to look because Andrew spins me so we’re face to face. He plants a hard kiss on my mouth. “Mmm. You taste even better than the birthday cake.”

I pull back a little. “How would you know? It’s still in the kitchen.”

“I may have snuck a bite.”

“Andrew,” I scold, shoving his chest. He stays right where he is, keeping one arm around my shoulders and the other secured to my waist. “That’s your daughter’s cake. She’ll be devastated.”

“You think I’m stupid? I was strategic about it. I covered my tracks with icing.”

I roll my eyes but hug him back. “Very sneaky.”

“It was delicious.” He rests his forehead against mine. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” I murmur. “That woman—have you . . .?”

“What?” he asks. “With her?”

I nod. “She seemed really offended.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t mess with the other moms. They’re rabid. If I were to let one of them into my bed, they’d turn into an even hornier pack of bitches.”

I wrinkle my nose. “That many of them are single?”

“No,” he says. “Hardly any. Kiki isn’t.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawns. “So they just want to hook up.”

“Yeah. The weird thing is, the single moms leave me alone. It’s like we understand each other.”

I smile a little. “I never pretended to understand you.”

“Nor I you. You’re still a puzzle.”

Grinning, I tilt my head up for another kiss just as I hear, “Ugh. I don’t know whether to be disgusted or elated.”

Without letting go of Andrew, I turn. Sadie holds a plate with a hamburger. Nathan stands next to her with two more. “On the one hand,” she says, “I want you both to be happy. On the other . . .” She grimaces. “Ew. You’re my brother. And my boss.”

“She’s been a bit multiple-personality ever since,” Nathan nods at her growing belly, “you know.”

Sadie turns to gape at him. “I’m pregnant. I’m entitled to indecision and mood swings.”

“And foot rubs. And midnight ice cream runs. And three plates of food.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows at the burgers and hotdogs. “Those are all for you?”

“As Rachel Green says, ‘no uterus, no opinion,’” she bites back before glancing at me. “Do you have anything to add?”

“Only that you’re absolutely glowing,” I say through a forced smile as I resist asking who Rachel Green is.

“Thank you.” She straightens. “I guess I’m just relieved neither of you is as cynical as you pretend, and that you’re not failing at hiding it anymore.”

Nathan puts an arm around her shoulder as best he can with his hands full. “Come on, babe.”

“But—”

“Nope,” he says. “We’re done here. Let them have their moment.”

When they’ve gone, I shake my head. “Your sister is insane.”

Andrew grins. “She’ll be your sister too.”

I look at him, thinking I’ve misheard. “What?”

His smile fades. “Christ. Sorry. That was a stupid fucking thing to say.”

“She’ll be my sister?” I repeat. I wonder if it was a slip of the tongue, but the way he swallows uncomfortably makes me realize what he’s saying. “You mean if we were to . . . if one day—”

“Don’t freak out,” he says. “It was dumb. I swear, I don’t have a ring in my pocket or anything. I haven’t even thought about it. I wouldn’t just spring that on you—”

“Hang on,” I say, throwing him a lifeline since he’s obviously struggling. “Just back up. I’m not freaking out, but what were you trying to say?”

He stops for a moment, squinting behind me, lost in a thought. Finally, he says, “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t believe in a future with you. So I guess on some subconscious level, I assume we’re in it now. For the long haul.” He cringes. “Stage-five clinger status?”

I don’t panic. Instead, to my surprise, I laugh. “No. We’re not like other couples. We have to think about these things. I’d be more shocked if I hadn’t just talked to Flora about being a stepmother.”

Andrew’s face stills, and for a moment, our roles are reversed, and I feel like I’ve gone too far. He clenches his jaw, and the warm blue of his eyes sharpens. “God,” he says. “A stepmom. To Bell.”

I hold his gaze and point out, “That’s the same thing as being Sadie’s sister-in-law.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I just never thought I’d . . . get here. And so quickly.”

I rub his back. “It is quick. We have all the time in the world, though. There’s no rush.”

“Where’s Daddy?” Bell calls over the din of the crowd. “I have to blow out the candles now.”

“Well, maybe a slight rush,” I amend, smiling.

“It never ends,” he says. “And summer break’s around the corner. That’s months without a reprieve.” I can’t tell if it’s a complaint or a warning—especially since he’s smiling.