“No, because then I’ll get distracted and forget to make you feed the raccoons.”
“Halley, you could be in labor and you’d still demand someone feed the raccoons.”
“Actually, I’d make sure they were looked after before I went into labor. It’s not exactly a surprise, you know. Childbirth is guaranteed after pregnancy.”
“Well, I hope you have all boys because this world doesn’t need another you.”
“Oh, please. There could never be another me. I’m far too unique for that.”
“Remind me again why Reagan and Ava spent the entire morning telling me all about your lack of self-confidence?”
I looked him dead in the eye and said, “Because I have raging mommy issues and use sarcasm as a form of defense?”
He looked as if he was going to say something but stopped dead. “I’m sorry. That was too far.”
I shrugged. “It’s a fact. I do have mommy issues, and I do use sarcasm as a form of defense. Honestly, I have plenty of self-belief, but I do struggle with confidence.”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“Not in my eyes. Think of it like this.” I moved so my wine was resting on my knee. “I believe in myself. I know I’m good at my job and that I can achieve anything I put my mind to. The world is my oyster and all that cliché bullshit. I know that. I believe that I can do anything I want if I just work hard enough.
“On the other hand, a part of me is always whispering that I’m not good enough. That it’s all ridiculous, I’m ridiculous, and nobody actually cares about what I’m doing. That voice is a demon that was born of years of me wanting my mom to pay me attention after my parents divorced. If she doesn’t care, how can anyone else?”
Preston tilted his head to the side. His eyes were full of gentle curiosity, but none of the pity or sympathy that I usually got when I spoke about my family issues. It was… nice.
“You keep all of that inside every single day and still manage to be an upstanding, functional member of society? I had no idea until today.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s why you need to be kind to everyone you meet. It doesn’t matter how kind or friendly or outgoing someone is. You have no idea what battle they’re fighting on the inside. Sometimes all you need to do is tell someone their hair looks great and you can change their entire day.”
“Halley?”
“Yeah?”
“Your hair looks great today.”
My cheeks flushed. “You said that because of what I just said.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t make it any less true.” He grinned and leaned forward, tugging gently on my hair. “You’re right, by the way. We should be nicer to people. You included.”
I pursed my lips, but I was fighting a smile. “I think it’s a little different when it’s your best friend’s brother and you’ve never gotten along, ever.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Both of ours.”
“Shit, you’re right.” He laughed and rubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. “In my defense, I had a crush on you.”
My eyebrows went up so high that they were practically part of my hairline. “Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not that hard to believe. You’re smart, funny, and beautiful.” With a wide smile, he tapped my nose. “It was easier to avoid you than admit that I had a crush on my sister’s friend.”
Well, if we were admitting things tonight… “Okay, then I should be honest, too.” I paused. “I’ve had a crush on you for years.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I laughed, dipping my head and covering my face with my hand. My fingers smudge over my glass’s lens, so I put down my glass and pulled them off so I could clean them using my shirt. “It’s true. Honestly. Why would I lie about it? This time last week, I was horrified about you being my competition in the booth because I’d have to see you kissing other women. Or hear it, rather.”
Preston shifted so he was facing me. “If we’re confessing things… I bet you so I’d have an excuse to kiss you.”
My mouth dropped open.
“I was pissed when you kissed my cheek,” he continued. “So I did the same back to you, even though I really fucking wanted to kiss you.”
I groaned, letting my head fall back. “This situation is so messed up.”
My doorbell rang from inside the house, and Preston held up a finger before he shoved his beer at me and got up. He was inside before I had a chance to protest his beer-shoving.
Luckily for him, I knew that was the pizza.
Luckily for me, it gave me a minute to gather my thoughts.
Had I really just admitted to him that I’d had a crush on him for years? Yes, yes I had. He’d admitted he’d had a crush on me, too.
Damn it, I hated it when Reagan was right.
Now I’d have to admit it to her.
The only thing worse than admitting to your partner you were wrong was admitting it to your best friend.
Especially since Reagan was a bragger. She’d never let us live this down. Neither would Ava—Jesus, now I’d have to marry Preston just to live out my life in peace.
Wait. That escalated quickly.
I put down his beer and switched it out for my wine glass. I took a huge gulp that made my cheeks blow out as I swilled it around my mouth before I swallowed.
It burned a little.
White wine was not meant to be swilled by the mouthful. Little sips, maybe, but not huge, gaping mouthfuls that were warm.
I stuck out my tongue with a, “Blech!”
Warm wine was not your friend. Or mine. Or anyone’s.
Preston rejoined me on the back porch, pizza boxes in hand. “You wanna eat these on the swing?”
“Do I want your pineapple to accidentally end up on my pizza? No.” I took the top box from him and moved toward the outdoor table that was on the other side of the porch.
“That’s the pineapple one.”
I dropped that pizza box on the table so hard it was like I was shocked by lightning.
He laughed and set the other box down. “Kidding. This is mine.”
I glared at him. Defiling my pizza was one step too far. “You owe me for this at this point.”
“Because you dropped your own pizza?”
“No, because there’s fruit on your pizza.” It was the only excuse I had right now. “Also, are your backpack sandwiches still edible? Google says it’s the wrong season for Betty to be pregnant, but if you feed her a stale sandwich, I will be furious.”
Preston choked with the slice firmly in his mouth. Two pieces of pineapple fell off into the box, vindicating me a little. “Why don’t you eat a sandwich and find out?”
“Because I don’t run a Subway store,” I retorted. “You made the sandwiches. Fix it.”
“I’ve dated many people. I never thought I’d date raccoons, too.”
“Welcome to Halley Dawson’s residence. Some people come with crazy exes. Some have kids. Some have credit card debt. I have sandwich lovin’ raccoons.” I grinned and tore a bite off the slice of pizza I was holding.
“It could be worse. At least raccoons can’t send threatening text messages.”