I'm Not Your Enemy (Enemies 2)

I wasn’t wrong on this one.

Sebastian sat down next to me, and he’d brought the whole pizza box I’d opened, along with two beers and a soda.

“You seem confident,” he said for only me to hear. “Are there any mini Blakes out there from your straight days?”

“What?” I chuckled. “The extent of my experience with women isn’t even rated PG-13.”

In high school when I was dumb and confused, I’d had a single girlfriend, and I’d gotten to first and second base while being frustrated because I kept thinking about guys.

Sebastian was surprised. So he must’ve thought I’d been with women, even if only to secure my status as straight to my family.

“Uncle Blake, can we watch Wicked Tuna?” Teddy asked.

“Absolutely.” I loved that show.

When Soph reemerged once more, it was funny to watch Dylan stare at her, as if searching for signs of pregnancy. I was sure he’d get his answer if he only told her to pee on a stick.

Deep down, she had to know.

“This is all so amazing, Blake.” Soph ran a hand over the newly treated top of the kitchen bar. “I forget how talented you are sometimes.”

“I had a lot of help,” I replied.

She shook her head and was the last to join us—with a…vegetarian pizza?

Yeah, she was pregnant.

“Interestin’ choice,” I noted. “Isn’t meat lovers your favorite?”

She shrugged. “I was in the mood for peppers and spinach.”

I hoped she was in the mood for a third kid too.

A couple hours later, it was just Sebastian and me left—and my boys. Oppy had crawled into their new dog bed, one of those designed like a cushy little cave. Unfortunately for him, I had to wake him up soon because it was bath time.

“We’re startin’ with you, squirt.” I swooped Percy off the floor and brought a towel and their shampoo to the kitchen. “Darlin’, what are the odds of me convincing you to stay the night and christen my new bed?”

“Not in our favor,” Sebastian replied reluctantly. I’d figured as much. He had to get home to his own brood. “I wanted to talk to you about something before I left, though.”

“Yeah?”

He better not cancel on Christmas. I’d texted my brother right after lunch to say Sebastian and I would be there.

Percy knew what the deal was whenever I sat him down in a sink. He fucking loved bath time. He could stand under the running water for hours if I’d let him. His brother was a different story. He liked the water but couldn’t stand still. He’d kick, splash, and literally try to headbutt the surface.

Sebastian leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. He looked on in amusement as I started by giving Percy a good soak.

“Man, look at him,” he chuckled. “What a pampered little prince.” He reached out and stroked Percy’s wet fur. “He’s so relaxed. When I gotta clean Mischa and Echo, I end up wetter than them. I don’t even bother getting them into the bathroom anymore. I hose them off in the driveway.”

I laughed, remembering doing the same with Rosie and most of my previous dogs that were bigger breeds. I’d wash my truck, then my dog in the same spot, just different supplies.

“Anyway.” Sebastian withdrew his hand and wiped it on a towel. “I’ve been doing some thinking since our lunch date earlier, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve misjudged you. I haven’t been fair to you.”

My brow knitted as I glanced at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Shit was good between us, wasn’t it?

“I’m not gonna blame the stories I’ve heard over the years,” he said. “You know Sophia adores the hell outta you but that she’s also been worried. Mostly about you hiding in the closet, never getting attached, never staying in one place for very long.” He cleared his throat. “Those little anecdotes were accompanied by childhood memories of what a good big brother you always were—despite terrorizing her the right, brotherly amount.” This was the worst buildup. I couldn’t smile at his evident effort to lighten the tension when I didn’t know what was next. “I remember the look on her face when she told me she got stood up for her—what do you call those weird Southern coming-out proms?”

I mustered a quick grin. “Debutante ball?”

He squinted. “I thought it was something else.”

“You’re probably thinkin’ about cotillion,” I said. He snapped his fingers in that’s the one. “Soph was a deb,” I clarified. “Don’t ask me to explain the difference, but—yeah.”

“Can’t believe that’s a thing, by the way.”

Eh, it was dying out. When Soph and I were younger, it’d only been a thing because our mother’s aunt, who’d raised her, was fancy as shit and socialized in all the right circles. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was still mostly an invite-only affair.