Charming as Puck(84)
Muffy: Wait, if you were me, or if you were Kami?
Maren: Both. Kami needs to suck up to her potential future mother-in-law, and you need to not let Kami set you up on dates.
Alina: Isn’t it a little soon to be talking about potential future mothers-in-law?
Maren: No
Felicity: No
Muffy: Can I be your maid of honor? I’ve never been anyone’s maid of honor, and since Mom’s clearly never getting married again…
Kami: There’s no wedding. IF we get married, we’re eloping where no family can tell embarrassing stories about either of us.
Felicity: Considering the rumor going around the locker room that Nick gave you a blow-up sex toy as his final apology gift, that’s probably really smart.
Maren: WHAT?
Alina: Why didn’t I hear about this?
Muffy: Whoa, if that doll I saw was supposed to be a sex toy, was it actually a big dildo, or was there something else?
Kami: THERE. IS. NO. BLOW-UP. SEX. TOY. And for the love of pucks, DO NOT SUGGEST ONE TO NICK.
Maren: Oh no, trouble in paradise? And I was just warming up to the idea of Nick maybe being good enough for you.
Felicity: Please tell me you didn’t dump my brother. He would be HEARTBROKEN. And none of us know what that might mean, but it’s terrifying.
Alina: Whoa, wait, Nick has a heart?
Muffy: He does really seem to like you, Kami. Don’t do it. Don’t break his heart.
Kami: Yes, Felicity, I have a spare ticket for your mom for the game. But she can’t mention the garden shed or I’ll accidentally on purpose spill my soda all over myself and then I’ll have to go change, and I’d really like to see the game.
Alina: Fuck that. Spill the soda on her. Nick needs you. He’s on fire since you started banging him.
Maren: #truth
Muffy: Called it.
Felicity: Thanks, Kami. I’ll tell Mom. And I’m muting you all now.
I absently glance at the front door, remember Nick taking me against it last night, remember that he forgot to use a condom, and everything inside me temporarily freezes.
He gives really good wall sex.
But I don’t want him to think I’m trying to trap him into having a baby.
Except…he wouldn’t have stayed if he thought I was trying to trick him into something he didn’t want. And—I shiver—if there are any lasting repercussions to us forgetting protection last night, I have this feeling he’ll be an amazing dad.
He was so—so—perfect about it all. Responsible has never been a word I’d associate with Nick, but after his initial apology, he didn’t freak out.
He took it all on his shoulders and told me everything was okay.
He’s just everything. Everything I always wanted to believe he could be.
And—my heart skips a beat—if I am pregnant, I don’t think he’d marry me just to give our baby the traditional married parent home.
No, I think he might do that because he loves me.
Pancake skids to a stop in front of me and drops a pull toy on the ground, then goes down on her front paws and lifts her haunches, wagging her tail. “Okay, we’ll play,” I tell her.
Dixie and Tiger race over to us too, and I spend the rest of the day hanging out with my dogs and cleaning my house and smiling.
About everything.
And texting Nick.
Who also gives good text.
I head over to my parents’ place just before dinner. Muffy meets us there, and we all pile into my car to go pick up Mrs. Murphy.
There’s a knot in my stomach that I can’t quite shake as we pull down the drive. Sugarbear’s grazing in the front yard, and she trots over to beg for love when we all step out of the car.
“Oh, she’s so cute!” Muffy squeals.
“Very social for a cow,” Mom says.
“She’s such a good girl.” I rub her head, talking doggy talk to her, and I half expect her to flop onto the ground and show me her belly, but she just stands there soaking up the attention and trying to lick us all.
“You should find her a home with other cows,” Mom reminds me gently.
I hold up my hands. “Nick says he’s working on it.”
“Who wouldn’t want to keep such a cutie-patootie around?” Muffy croons to her.
She looks like she’s gained another twenty-five or fifty pounds this week, and Mrs. Murphy looks mildly flustered when she steps onto her front porch and catches sight of the three of us loving all over the calf.
“We offered to get him a real dog instead, but he says he likes this one. Like she’s a dog. And she’s adorable, but there’s nothing cute about stepping in a cow patty at five in the morning. And if you tell his coaches he thinks this cow is a dog, and he gets grounded for mental issues, I’m disowning all of you.”
“She is a dog,” I reply, which earns me another sloppy, grainy kiss from the calf.
“And he’s so good with her,” Mrs. Murphy sighs happily. “He’s doing right by her too. Even if it’s getting mildly inconvenient waiting for everything to fall into place.”
I glance at her.
She smiles serenely, and I realize she has a secret.
And she’s Nick’s mother.
And he has to get his skills from somewhere, which means…
No, I tell myself. I have to trust him.