The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

I take a deep breath and look down, running my hands over the swell of my stomach. I need more time.

Moment of truth. It’s dinner time.

I successfully made it through an entire day of faking it as Drew’s fiancée. He hasn’t tried to kiss me again and hasn’t been quite as touchy-feely as he was this morning. I’m given the occasional hand brush or knee bump, but other than that, he’s behaved himself pretty well. Unfortunately, even those tiny touches have set me off like a rocket.

Even so, Richard and Henry are the best. I want them to adopt me. They are both easygoing love birds, and the way Richard dotes on Henry even after being together for twenty years is incredible. Henry has such a tender heart, and talking with him is like sitting down in a plush chair by the fire with a warm cup of tea.

The expansive lakeside view is giving me the breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed. Just getting out of the city and stepping away from the salon with my phone off has been a dream. I have a hard time relinquishing control to other people, but being forced to let Lucy take over managing the salon for a few days is good for me and will probably help me relax more when I have to take time off after the baby comes. Honestly, though, what I’ve enjoyed the most is listening to Drew and Richard talk.

Drew usually tones down his medical talk around me, but here with Richard, he’s been nerding out. The two of them have discussed medical journals and the latest science in women’s healthcare, swapped hilarious birth stories, and reminisced about old times when Drew was in medical school and learning under Richard’s supervision. I have loved seeing Drew in his element, and as crazy as it sounds, listening to them discuss obstetrics and gynecology with such reverence makes me feel special to be a woman.

The ugly truth is, I’ve had a fantastic day. Richard and Henry took us to a little local farmer’s market for lunch and then out for a leisurely warm cruise in their pontoon boat. Drew did wrap his arm around my shoulder during that boat rid

e, and I tried very hard not to lay my head in the crook of his shoulder and stare up at him like a lovesick nincompoop. I don’t want to think too much about it, but something about this trip has felt too real. I keep forgetting we’re supposed to be faking it, and I’m not having to force my smiles around Drew, or the way my body naturally gravitates toward his when we’re in the same room. There’s a closeness between us that can’t be manufactured, and that’s truly terrifying.

But the day’s fun times are coming to an end now because I’m seated at the table, waiting for Richard to bring out our plates of lobster. I probably could have admitted that I despise eating anything that comes with claws and antennas still attached, but then that would have required admitting to not hearing Henry when he asked because I was too busy imagining Drew and me in a dark room somewhere. So now, it’s time to pay my penance.

“Everyone ready!” Richard shouts from the kitchen way too enthusiastically. All day they’ve been talking up the lobster. It’s ridiculous. Never has anyone been looking forward to a dish more in their life than these people. They’re a millisecond away from starting a cult that only allows you to eat lobsters. It will be the most sparsely joined entity in all of history.

“Yes, we’re starving for some lobster—get out here!” Henry bellows back with a wink at me.

Are we starving for lobster, though, Henry? Are we really?

My only objective tonight is to politely choke down this horrific food and then make it into the bathroom before it comes back up. And there’s no doubt in my mind that it will come back up. I preemptively stuffed a grocery bag I found under the kitchen sink into my pocket in case the bathroom proves too far away. Henry saw me do it. I just shrugged like I collect grocery bags, what about it?

Richard comes out of the kitchen, and there it is, my nightmare on a plate. He presents his husband with a freaking big grilled lobster on a bed of steamed vegetables that look almost as terrible as the seafood. I rub my hand over my belly and promise my unborn child I will sneak out of here and hunt down a Taco Bell after everyone goes to bed.

Richard sets an identical plate of red sea creature in front of Drew. Henry and Drew both ooh and aah over their spoils, the lobster winks at me, and I mentally dry-heave. My gaze trickles over my inevitable future, and I gulp a little too loudly. Drew hears it and leans back in his seat, taking his beer from the table and raising it to his grinning lips. The glass bottle makes contact with his mouth, and I watch closely—intently—as he tips it back and swallows. I stare, all too happy to forget about this dinner of doom and watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Something about this is so sexy I want to cry. This scene should be sculpted and displayed in a museum with a description card underneath that reads: Sensual man at dinner. With greedy intentions, my mind wanders back to the feel of his lips on mine, the way my nerves sizzled when he lingered against my mouth like we had all of time stretched out in front of us and nowhere to go.

I’m reliving my memories in delicious detail when I notice the curve of Drew’s lips widen past the rim of his bottle, so much so that both of his dimples peek out. My eyes pop up to his and he’s staring at me, eyebrows raised. Whatcha thinking about over there, Jessie?

I clear my throat, and my gaze darts away just in time to see Richard exit the kitchen, making his way toward me, holding out a plate like this is the most exquisite fine-dining restaurant in all the land. If he had a silver plate topper, he would have used it, and I would have been able to see my horrified expression reflected back at me.

“And for you, Jessie, something extra special.”

Oh goody. Did they save the daddy lobster for me or something? Is it still alive and I’ll have to kill it before I can eat it?

I set my voice up an octave higher than it needs to be in order to overcompensate for my inward glum attitude. “Oh yummmm, I’m so excited to eat some delicious”—Richard sets the plate down in front of me, and I frown—“steak?”

I almost can’t believe my good luck. Do I harness magical powers and the strength of my mind allowed me to change that lobster into a delicious, garlicky, buttery steak? Briefly, I look at Drew, wondering if I can make his clothes disappear with my new magic. His white pocket tee sadly stays in place, but the smile on his mouth is full of amusement.

I look down, now skeptically pushing the steak around my plate wondering if it’s just a lobster painted brown. I glance at Drew, but he betrays nothing as his eyes watch me closely. Then these three stooges start laughing like someone delivered a punch line and I missed it. I look blankly around the table, and then I see Henry wipe a tear from his eye.

“Look at your face! I’m sorry, hun. It was mean to play a prank on you, but Drew talked us into it.” He’s still chuckling, but it’s clear he feels terrible. His heart is too wholesome for enjoying pranks performed on vulnerable pregnant women. “Every time we mentioned this lobster today, you looked like you wanted to run for the hills.”

Richard nods. “While you were still outside this morning, Drew came in and told us you can’t stomach seafood. He snuck out while you and Henry were sitting out on the dock and picked you up a steak.”

Henry gives me an amused yet apologetic look, like he wants to laugh but is also afraid I’m going to cut up our friendship bracelet. “But he made us promise to keep it a secret all day and to really talk up the lobster. Are you upset?”

Am I upset? Am I upset? YES, I’M UPSET!

But not at all for the reasons everyone at this table thinks. I’m upset because Drew has my preferences memorized. He went out to the freaking grocery store and bought me a steak because he knew I wouldn’t be able to handle seafood. He knows so many tiny things about me because he’s been paying attention. It also occurs to me that my glass of water is the only one at the table with ice in it. No doubt Drew’s doing as well, because he’s noticed ice water is the only way I’ve been able to drink it through this pregnancy. Like a rolodex fanning out in front of me, I now see all the thoughtful little things Drew has done for me lately.

And the icing on the breakdown cake? I love pranks. Adore them, even. And he somehow managed to wrap all of this up in a nice little humorous bow. Wonderful. Now I’m going to cry.

I muster a smile. It’s so fake, but I don’t have another option. My face says, Here are all my teeth! I avoid Drew’s gaze. “Great prank. Will you guys excuse me? I’ll be right back.”

I feel Drew’s eyes on my back with every step I take away from the table. I turn the corner, and as soon as I’m out of sight, I bolt to the bathroom and whip out my phone.