“Eh. My boss is a head trip. He’s given me zero direction and a limitless budget. I’m just trying not to go hog wild with his credit card,” she teases.
I stretch out my legs in front of me and Penn eases back, just enough to tuck her feet into my lap.
Feeling playful, I speak in a dignified tone. “Your boss sounds like a wealthy gentleman with a philanthropic streak.”
She throws her head back and laughs at my corny joke. “To be honest, he probably won’t be wealthy for much longer…He has a habit of taking in freeloading guests…” She speaks in a playful tone but something in her voice tells me she’s not completely joking. I hate that she thinks she and the babies are a burden on me.
I decide to keep it light. I pinch her gently on the hip. “If his guest would control her ridiculous pickle craving, the poor guy would probably be able to last a few months, at the very least.”
I don’t get a second to process the ridiculousness of speaking about myself in the third person because at the mere mention of the pickles, Penny’s spine goes ramrod straight and she snaps her attention toward the kitchen, looking half-ready to run in there and count her condiment jars. “You know the rules. You do not speak about my pickles,” she threatens openly. “You do not even think about my pickles.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I learned my lesson the last time.” I hid them once, just as a prank. The girl practically turned into the Hulk searching for them. I can barely keep from cracking up at the memory.
Penny and I may be expertly avoiding the elephant in the room—my recent declaration of my intentions for us—but the mood has definitely lifted around here. It’s more playful. Plus, she doesn’t seem to feel the need to get dolled up all day long anymore. She allows herself to relax. She’s the only person I can be silly with and totally let loose with. We can just be…us.
We’re good for each other. She sees that, right? She sees that we’d be happy together? If she gave us a chance?
I’ve been an insecure wimp this past little while, overanalyzing her every stare, her every word, her every touch. I know something’s going on in her head but I can’t tell what it is.
Is she trying to determine whether I was genuine when I said I want her? Or is she trying to decide whether she wants me too? The first option, I can handle. The second makes me nervous as shit.
Penny is everything I could ever ask for.
The person I come home to after a hard day on the farm.
The person who tells me all about her ‘shitty boss’.
The person who throws her feet up in my lap and laughs at my lame jokes as we snuggle in front of a fire.
Everything I ever dreamed of is wrapped up in this one woman. My best friend in the whole damn world.
Fuck. I’m trying to be patient with her but I won’t be able to hold my tongue for much longer. I’m contemplating the best way to diplomatically broach the topic when I feel a faint thump beneath my palm.
Penny yips. “Whoa.” She sits up quickly and stares at me, wide-eyed.
I stare right back, my brows dipped low. “What the hell was that?”
“Did you feel it, too?” She places her hand next to mine on the lower part of her rounded belly.
“Yeah,” I whisper, almost breathless. Afraid that if I speak or move or blink, this bubble of magic might pop. “Did the baby just—?”
“Kick?” she nods, eyes wide. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
Our fingers intertwine, still resting on her stomach, as we both wait patiently to feel the tiny, little nudge again. She snuggles closer to me as if to make sure I have the best vantage point to experience each kick together with her.
And then it happens—another round of rhythmic thumping coming from inside her belly.
A watery smile takes over her face, and I feel some type of emotion tickling the back of my own eyes.
What the hell? What the hell is this magic?
Penny’s face is alight with awe. “My sweet babies…” she says wistfully.
“Our babies…” The words sneak past the leaky barrier I’ve built up in my brain.
Penny’s gaze snaps up to mine. A guarded look comes over her face.
I’m not backing down. Not this time. “Our babies, Princess.”
She shrinks back and my hand falls. “Um, I just, um…I’ve got to go, uh…” She points vaguely in the direction of the kitchen before shifting onto all-fours and spinning around like a puppy searching for its tail. She braces the arm of the couch and rises to her feet then hurry-waddles out of the room.
I grate my fingers along the back of my neck. Fuck.
I follow after her. By the time I get to the kitchen, she’s in front of the fridge desperately stuffing pickles into her face.
“You okay?” I plant an elbow on the appliance’s open door and lean over so we’re at eye level.
She titters nervously. “Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” With the jar clutched to her chest, she spins toward the bedroom.
Frustration ignites in my chest. I’m tired of this game.
I jog after her and gently catch her by the waist. Reluctantly, she slowly pivots around to face me. “What is it, Walker…?” she mutters like a pissed off teenager sentenced to a week of detention.
I push out a breath. “Y’know what, let's just talk about this. Let's sit down like grown-ass adults and have a fucking conversation.” She grunts but I continue. “Because we've been best friends our whole lives yet I still feel like there's walls between us, P. We dance around each other and we let pride get in the way and we tell each other half-truths
