Huh, well, I guess that makes sense then. It wouldn’t work for me, but I see its merits.
Baby Seb lets out a loud wail, and Storm stands to retrieve him from his porta-cot in Kins’ spare room. Arlo jumps to his feet. “I got him,” he tells her. “Chill, mama.” He disappears down the hall and returns a minute later with Seb, who is staring up at Arlo like he hung the stars.
Arlo returns to his place on the floor, cradling the baby close to his chest, talking to him quietly.
A collective round of aww sounds off around the room, and Arlo pops his head up, smirking. “Chicks dig guys that are good with babies,” he says.
Ugh. There are too many hormones up in here. They’re rubbing off on me and giving me mushy feelings. No, thank you. I get up, heading for the fridge. “Who needs a refill?”
Amy and Hannah hold out their empty glasses, so I bring the bottle back with me. I top us all off then drop onto the couch. “So, when’s the last fitting?” I ask Kins, referring to our dresses for the wedding in two weeks.
“For you girls, it’ll be next Friday. But mine is two days before the wedding,” she says, patting her little belly. “This one’s growing so fast. I’ve put on, like, three pounds just this week.”
“Your boobs are looking bigger, too,” Em says, popping a chip in her mouth.
Kins nods. “They are!”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Arlo announces. He hands baby Seb off to Storm, then he waves to the room. “Later, ladies.”
“Later, kiddo,” I call to his retreating back as I turn back to Kins. “Hey, would you mind if the wedding is Archer’s and my official first outing as a couple?”
“Of course not,” she says, smiling wide. “It was my idea that you bring him.”
“Yeah, I know. I just . . . I guess I’m nervous about actually touching him in public,” I admit. “It’s going to be weird.”
“You’re overthinking it again,” Storm says, patting Seb’s back as he fusses.
“I can’t help it,” I whine. “This is all new, and I don’t know what to do with it. The wedding will be fine—I know that. It’s afterwards that I’m worried about. He said he’ll give me as much time as I need before we take it public.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Hannah asks.
I tell them about the other day on the sidewalk before I met up with them at Fiora. How I wanted to touch him, but couldn’t. “It sucked, and the look in his eyes when he nearly kissed me but had to pull back . . . it gutted me.”
“So just freaking kiss him,” Storm says. “Whether you do it tomorrow or after the wedding, it’s not going to matter. He is who he is, and it’s going to get attention. Now that you’ve told your brother, does anyone else’s opinion really matter?”
“What she said,” Hannah agrees as she sweeps her pink hair into a high ponytail.
I sigh. “I’m going to have to have a press release ready to go out when photos of us together start surfacing. I’m his agent. People are going to have something to say about that.”
“Meh, screw them,” Emory says. “I say wait and see if anyone says anything. Yeah, you’re his agent, but you’ve also been friends for the last twenty years. You’ve been photographed together before.”
That’s true enough. Maybe I am making a big deal out of nothing, and nobody will care. Maybe it’s all in my head.
“I think you’re trying to protect yourself by making up reasons you shouldn’t go public,” Kinsley says. “If you don’t go public, then it’s not really real.”
I swallow, staring at my friend. She smiles softly, placing her hand atop mine. “It’s okay to be afraid, Lenny,” she says. “Love is scary.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I mutter. “I’ve never been so terrified in all my life.”
“Girl, you’re preaching to the choir,” Em chuckles. “Now throw a surprise pregnancy on top of that, then we can talk.”
I flip her off. “Don’t say that shit to me; you’ll jinx me. I’ll leave the baby-making to you guys. This factory is closed for business, indefinitely.”
“That’s what you say now.” Em smirks.
I glare at her. And she throws her head back, cackling.
I shake my head, grinning. God, I love my girls.
When I get home, I know what I need to do.
Archer is kicked back on the couch, watching an episode of The Boys with a beer in his hand.
“Hey, you,” I say, collapsing half on top of him.
He throws his arm around my shoulders, tugging me closer, and presses a kiss to my temple. “Hey, baby, you have a good girls’ night?”
“Yeah, I did,” I tell him. “Arlo even joined us for a while. What about you?”
“Can’t complain. Just been chillin’ out, waiting for you to get home. Bates is off with some chick he met hangin’ out outside the stadium after practice today.”
“I really need to talk to him about cutting down on the random hookups, or at least spacing them out a bit more. That’s, what, the third girl this week, right?” I ask.
Archer nods. “Something like that.”
I shake my head and sigh. Bates and his conquests are an issue for another day. “So, I was thinking we could maybe go out for dinner tomorrow night . . .”
“Seriously?” Arch says, shifting so he can look at me.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “What do you think?”
His smile takes over his entire face. “Shit yeah. Let’s do it. Have you got somewhere in mind, or can I plan it?”
I laugh nervously. “Uh, asking you was as far as I’d gotten in the planning stage.”
“Great, leave it with me, and I’ll sort it,” he says, kissing my temple then settling further into the cushions and tugging me back to his side.
We watch two more episodes before I fall asleep, and Arch carries me to bed then climbs in behind me.
I could get used to this.
ARCHER: I know this is a big deal for you, so I chose somewhere low-key. You know Juan’s downtown? We went there with Bates and your parents last time they were in the city. I’m going to have to meet you there, though. Coach wants to see me after practice. So I’ll catch you there at 6.
I look at the text from Archer one last time then toss my cell in my bag.
Given my love of Mexican food, I’m going to go with stretchy pants. I grab my favorite black jeggings and a loose, silky, scoop-neck top before throwing them on and grabbing my Docs from my closet.
Bates walks past my open bedroom door, pausing in the doorway. “You’re going to be late,” he says, hands braced on the top of the frame. “Having second thoughts?”
I glance at my watch, panic surging to the fore when I realize it must be broken. It still says it’s five to five. “Shit, shit, shit,” I chant, riffling through my bag, trying to find my cell. I spot the shiny red case and grab it. “Oh, my God,” I groan. It’s quarter to six. I’ll never make it on time.
“Chill out,” Bates says, coming in and sitting on the end of my bed. “Order an Uber, then text Arch that you’re running late. No biggy.”