“No. Do you know what kind of candy Izzy likes?”
“Izzy?” He shakes his head. “Why would I know that?”
“Right.” It was a dumb question, so I turn back around and go into the store once again.
With a root beer in hand, I stare down at the racks of candy.
Is she a chocolate kind of girl? If so, does she like white, dark, or the milk chocolate variety?
Does she like hard candy?
Does she even like candy at all?
I turn around, facing the racks with chips and pretzels.
Why does there have to be so many damn options?
My cell phone dings with a text, and I pull it from my pocket.
Lawson: Reese’s
My brother the lifesaver.
I ignore the thoughts of wondering how he got that information, knowing how fast gossip burns through the Cerberus community and turn my attention back to the orange and black packages. Knowing her favorite candy only leaves me with every other question I had before.
Not wanting to make a mistake, I grab one of every kind, struggling not to drop them as I walk to the cashier.
“Hell of a sweet tooth you got there, darlin’,” the female cashier says with a wink.
I look down at the dozen or so packages and back up at her but don’t say a word.
I almost open my mouth to tell her my girl is pregnant, but Izzy isn’t my girl.
After paying, she tosses the drink and the ridiculous amount of candy into a plastic bag before looking over my shoulder to help the next customer.
Lawson laughs when I climb inside and place the full bag between us while I pull on my seatbelt.
“Trying to give her gestational diabetes?” he asks as he pulls back out onto the road.
“What?” I look down at the bag, finding my attempt at a kind gesture as offensive now.
“It’s a joke, Drew. She’ll think it’s sweet.”
“I just want—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Does she have any complications?” I ask, realizing I don’t know anything about her or the pregnancy.
Hound mentioned she’d been sick a lot, but aren’t women always nauseous while pregnant? Mom made sure to make us feel bad for the way she felt while she was pregnant with us as often as she possibly could. She used it as a guilt trip, making us bend to her will for the sacrifices she made to bring us into this world.
Shit, now Izzy is doing the same thing for a child with a no-count dad with a bad attitude. Women really are the stronger gender, aren’t they?
“I don’t think so. Her morning sickness has stuck around a lot longer than Gigi’s and Simone’s, though.”
“Delilah tell you all of this?”
He shrugs. “Mostly I just listen when everyone talks. We all spend a lot of time together. Having our own baby is important to us. My ears tend to perk up when everyone is discussing babies and kids. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“You’re going to be an amazing dad.”
“You are too.” He keeps his eyes forward, but I know my brother well enough to know that he means it. He doesn’t say it as a courtesy. I just wish I could feel as confident about myself.
“Think I have time to grab a quick shower before you jump on your wife?” I ask as he pulls up to the house.
“I think I can hold off,” he jokes. “Just don’t take all day.”
He may be joking, but I rush inside, flying up the stairs to get clean. It has more to do with excitement about seeing Izzy than needing to escape.
The anticipation turns to nerves fifteen minutes later when I’m crossing Lawson’s yard to Hound’s. Her dad isn’t home, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m crossing a line by going to visit her. He urged me to be better, to spend more time with her for the baby’s sake, so it’s that knowledge that keeps my feet moving once I reach the porch.
Mere seconds after my knuckles meet the wood of the front door, it’s tugged open.
“Drew,” Gigi says with a familiar smirk.
This woman is devious. She was years ago as a teenager when we first met, and it seems even motherhood hasn’t been enough to make her change.
“Nice to see you.” Her eyes dart to the bag in my hand. “Is that for me?”
“For Izzy. Is she home?”
“She’s in the living room.”
Gigi doesn’t move from the doorway as I look around her.
“May I come in?” I finally ask when it’s clear she’s waiting for something.
“Oh, of course.” She steps to the side, and I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that she’s purposely trying to make me more nervous than I already am. It seems everyone around here finds this situation comical. First it was Sophia and her desperate need for the spot on the couch at the clubhouse and now Gigi is following me through the house with a grin on her face like she’s about to see a show she’s been waiting to catch the season finale of.
“Hey,” I say the second Izzy comes into sight.
She squeaks in the cutest way, her eyes blinking much like they did the day I approached her in the diner. The only thing that’s missing is a dollop of syrup dripping from her pouty lips.
“I umm…” I turn to look toward Gigi who is still lingering nearby.
Thankfully, she catches the hint and turns to walk out. “No sex in the living room, kids.”
I shake my head, but Izzy looks mortified when I turn back in her direction.
“Does she not know you’re more of a fan of outdoor sex?”
I could kick my own ass right now.
Izzy’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say a word.
“Sorry, that wasn’t appropriate. I grabbed this while I was at the store.”
Like a crazy person, I shove the bag in her direction.
She takes it with a flat smile.
“I showered before coming over.” Like that’s important information. Cringing, I continue, “What I mean is, the soda may be warm. I can get you some ice.”
“This is very kind of you,” she says, but she sets the bag on the side table.
“What are you watching?” Could I be anymore awkward?
“Graceland,” she answers but the show is paused, the name on the screen, and I feel even more like an idiot.
She presses play, but I can’t concentrate on the television, not while her bare legs are tucked under her. Is she even wearing anything but a t-shirt? Jesus, now is not the time to get hard.
“You’re acting weird,” she says as if she can read my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I agree, pulling my eyes from her exposed skin to look at the television.
“I’ve been wondering where that filthy smirk of yours went.”
“A lot has happened since that night,” I remind her.
“I miss him,” she whispers.
I should open my mouth to tell her she doesn’t even know that man, but I understand the sentiment because I miss him, too.
“I was wanting—”
Gigi sneezes in the other room, closer than I realized she was, making it obvious that she’s hovering around and being nosy.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure,” she answers immediately, giving me some hope she’s open to spending more time with me.