What Lovers Do(62)

I grunt. “It’s never time alone with him. His wife Taryn is always with us. She’s a shitty golfer.”

“Worse than me?”

I smirk and giggle. “Just barely, but yes.”

“Is she younger than your dad?”

I roll my eyes. “She’s younger than me, by a year.”

“Ouch.”

I shake my head, watching the dogs chase the ball that Shep throws. “I’m not bothered by her age. He adores her; that’s all that matters. It’s not like I hate her. She’s a yoga instructor and her family owns a winery. My dad hates wine, but it’s a secret. He’s never had the nerve to tell her that. I think he’s hoping it’s an acquired taste, but he has yet to acquire it. So if you like wine, then she will love you.”

“So…” Shep slides his hands into his front pockets “…that’s a yes. Right? You said she’ll love me, that means I’m invited?”

Shit …

I shake my head. “Hypothetically. That’s what I meant. I haven’t decided yet.” Too bad I can’t say that without grinning.

“Oh … I’m so going.” He takes a step closer, keeping his hands in his pockets. “You want me to go because I’m your favorite friend.”

I shake my head. “Jules is my best friend.”

“Yes, but I’m your favorite.”

“Favorite and best are the same thing.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No. They’re not. George Clooney is my best dog. He’s better behaved and knows more tricks. But Julia Roberts is my favorite dog because she’s a lovable daddy’s girl. So Jules can be your best friend because you’ve been friends for so long, but I’m your favorite friend because I golf and I’m available at a moment’s notice.”

A little uneasy in his close proximity, I clear my throat and lift my gaze to his. “Funny, for a short bout of time you said we were best friends.”

“No. We were best friends—accent on best. Think of it like a two-year-old being a naughty girl and a twenty-five-year-old being a naughty girl. See the difference? Hear the difference?”

“For someone with dyslexia, you sure do have a lot of opinions about the English language.”

Shep barks a laugh, throwing his head back. “Touché.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT





SHEP





“What’s Caroline doing?” I ask Howie as I take a seat at the bar he’s tending tonight. He’s owned this sports bar for almost a decade. I’ve occasionally filled in as bartender like he’s doing tonight. It’s a fun gig.

“Working late.” He eyes me while mixing a drink, daring me to suggest his darling wife might be screwing her boss.

I say nothing.

“Beer?”

I nod.

“How’s the eye doctor?”

“Depends on the day.” I wrap my hand around the cold mug of beer. “She’s a little too mysterious for my taste. At first it was fun, but now it’s just confusing. I’ve been stripped of my benefits.”

“Benefits?”

I grin before taking a swig of beer. Then I nod. “Friends with benefits … now without benefits.”

“Then what’s the point?”

I chuckle under my breath. “Good question.” I shrug. “She’s the female version of me. And I never imagined saying this, but I kinda dig female me.”

Giving me a lifted eyebrow, he runs a transaction through the register. “That’s messed up.”

“She’s … fun. Sexy. Competitive. And she makes me laugh like no other. I’m talking laughing until I have tears in my eyes. And I haven’t found a good explanation for it other than to say that the days I get to see her or talk to her are really incredibly good days. And the days I don’t … well…” I take another swig of beer “…they’re a little less … everything.”

He nods while wiping the bar beside me, an intent expression on his face. “Millie’s pregnant.”

Squinting at Howie, I wait for him to repeat himself. It sounded like he said Millie’s pregnant, but that’s ridiculous.

Biting his lips together, he gives me a slow nod.

I grunt, a stabbing feeling in my chest making it hard to breathe as an onslaught of emotions collide, unearthing resentment I thought I’d laid to rest many months ago.

“Random hookup guy. Caroline said it just happened. A few too many drinks. Hell, they didn’t even make it to her place or his. She’s keeping it. I guess the guy thought he was sterile. It’s the reason his previous marriage ended. Caroline said he’s elated, and Millie’s not exactly bummed about it either. Sorry, man.”

“I…” my head inches back and forth. “…I don’t …”

“Millie was messed up, Shep. Hell, I think she’s still messed up. She’s changed. It was never you. It was her. Millie changed so much from the person you married. Call it a midlife crisis, call it … whatever. You weren’t going to please her.”

“She didn’t want a baby,” I whisper, unblinkingly staring at my beer. “I … I wanted a baby. Not … her.”