“Ah.” Her lips hitched as she nodded. “Chemistry, right?”
“Absolutely,” he answered, stepping backward so as not to get caught up in the tractor beam pull. Not yet, anyway. He had a lot of thinking to do.
The next morning, Tony squatted beside the bench seat he’d removed from Angie’s Cadillac, hoping that working on Angie’s project would take his mind off Trish’s project—that one kept him up all night. If he wasn’t thinking about how much fun he’d have making a baby with Trish, he was thinking about how much fun he’d have being a father. But when he stripped away the thoughts of fun, he was left with a couple concerns, like how fast could a woman get pregnant, and how long did Nonna have to live?
He knew the basics about pregnancy. He knew how to make it happen. He knew babies baked for nine months. But he didn’t know if Nonna had nine months to live. No one did. He’d seen her a handful of times since the diagnosis, and she didn’t look any different to him. Sadder maybe, but not sick. Even the doctors couldn’t be pinned to a timeframe, and chemo and radiation could change the course of things. All Tony knew for sure was that if he wanted this baby to bring joy to Nonna, then the faster he could get Trish pregnant, the better. So what was stopping him?
He scraped a palm over the stubble on his left cheek and reached for an electric carving knife, hoping the mindless motion of cutting foam would put his worries to rest, but before he could flip the switch, a bang vibrated the garage walls.
“Grinding?”
“Excuse me?” Tony didn’t look in Angie’s direction.
“What were you thinking, Tony? Grinding with Trish!”
He looked then, more than a little surprised his sister had details about last night this early in the a.m. “She told you?”
“No, Piper Betts couldn’t wait to tell me. She’s keyboardist in that jazz band.”
“Oh,” he said, sitting back on his heels, oddly relived that Trish hadn’t been the one to spill the beans about their dirty dancing. How would they ever pull this baby thing off if she was blabbing gory details to Angie? “I didn’t see Piper there.”
“Of course you didn’t. You were too busy grinding against my best friend.”
“So what?” He shrugged and turned his attention to the foam, picking lint from the yellow rectangle.
“You must’ve mortified her. DeVigns don’t grind.”
The image of Trish in fishnet stockings dropping low to the ground as she smoothed her ass against him burned a hole through his brain. “Yeah? Well, you’re misinformed. Trish is a mighty fine grinder.”
Something scratchy but moist hit him square in the forehead. “Hey.” He looked at the carwash sponge Angie had pitched at his head. “What was that for?”
“Don’t fuck with her, Tony.” When he looked up, he saw Angie holding a ball peen hammer in her hand. He knew better than to worry she would throw that, too, but it sure gave her an ominous edge. “Trish is not for hire in your harem. She’s kind and sincere, and you’ll break her heart.”
’Cause in Angie’s eyes that was all he ever did—love ’em and leave ’em. Angie didn’t get that these things could be mutual. “Trish is a big girl,” he said, snatching the carwash sponge from the foam and tossing it to the garage floor.
“Damn it, Tony. I’m serious. There’s not a sincere bone in your body, unless you count the one in your pants. And I don’t. Leave Trish alone. I don’t want to be cleaning up another one of your messes, especially if it involves my friend.”
Back to this again. Angie considered manning Dad’s carpentry company “cleaning up” one of Tony’s messes. If only he’d been responsible enough to do the right thing and follow in the old man’s footsteps, Angie would be the one running around carefree. Or not. She wasn’t exactly the carefree type. Whatever. If she wanted to blame him for her moodiness, so be it. Nothing new. And she was probably right to be warning him off Trish.
Tony switched on the electric knife. He could only imagine what Angie would say if she knew the extent of the mess he was considering creating with her best friend. Cutting into the foam, he relaxed and reminded himself he hadn’t done anything stupid yet.
There was still a glimmer of hope for him.
When Trish heard the bell over the front door chime, she looked up from the media room sketch she’d been battling all morning. Angie walked toward Trish’s desk, keeping to the natural aisle formed between a row of model furniture and a line of floral accents. She wasn’t dressed for work, and her face was missing a smile.
“Hey, you,” Trish said brightly, despite the nerves picking at her neck. It was awkward seeing Angie so soon after what transpired last night with Tony. “Did we have a meeting scheduled?”
“No, but I’m thinking we should talk.” Angie’s nose crinkled and her nostrils flared.
“What’s up?” Upon inhaling, Trish sucked the words right back into the pit of her upset stomach. Angie was on to her.
“Piper Betts saw you grinding with my brother.”
“Who’s Piper Betts, and since when did we return to middle school?” Trish laughed, hoping to keep the conversation light and not incriminating.
Angie dropped onto the Lucite chair opposite from Trish’s desk. “Piper’s an old friend. She plays in the band that played at your cousin’s wedding.”
“Oh.” Trish rolled her pencil and three markers off the paper in front of her, settling them on the desk.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
“Ange, it’s no big deal.”
“
If Angie only knew. “You say that, but…” Trish remembered how caring and understanding Tony had been. Surely if he was the jerk Angie made him out to be, he wouldn’t have walked away from the opportunity to sleep with Trish last night. “I need more proof.”
“What?”
“I need proof that Tony’s capable of the messes you’re always talking about. Honestly, I don’t see it.”
“Holy shit.” Angie stood. “Did you sleep with him?”
Trish’s cheeks ignited. “No.” But not for lack of wanting.
“He’s going to hurt you.”
“How so?”
“What do you mean, how so? I know you! You want marriage. Kids. Tony thinks marriage is for losers who can’t get laid on a regular basis without the gold band, and he’s too much of a kid himself to raise one.”
Funny, as much as Trish loved Angie, she was getting tired of the slams against Tony’s character. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Maybe I want a little fun now and then, too.”
“Forget it. Whatever. Tony’s right. You’re a big girl. But I warned you. Remember that.” She turned and walked away.
“Ange, wait.” Trish jumped up and ran after her. If she wanted to have a baby with Tony, she was going to have to get used to smoothing wrinkles between her and Angie. “I like Tony, and if that makes me an idiot, then I take full responsibility.”
Angie stopped and turned. “Fine.”
“So you’re okay with it…with me liking him?”
“No, but what am I going to do about it? I love him. I love you. It’s not like I can give up on either one of you.”
That made Trish smile, and some of the stress she’d been carrying around all morning evaporated. “I’m going to hug you now.”
“Don’t.” Angie put out both arms. “I hurt my back carrying boards. You’ll make it worse.”
“Liar.” Trish sidestepped the outstretched arms and wrapped Angie in a fierce hug. “I love you, too.”
“Oh God. Too much. Too much,” Angie said, squirming.
