Page 4 of Marry Your Best Friend

“Baby, you can do anything you want to me if you promise you won’t cry anymore.”

She waves me off. “I’m sorry. I hate it when we fight.”

I sit quietly and watch her work. She numbs me and winces when she starts the stitches. “I’m okay,” I assure her.

I refuse to show her any pain because I know she’ll feel bad about it.

When she’s almost done, I whisper, “I hate it when we argue too.”

She nods and sniffs. “I know.”

“Let’s not do it anymore,” I plead with her.

She finishes the last stitch and lifts her eyes to mine. “Fine. Don’t offer to have a baby with me.”

Fuck me, why does my dick get hard just thinking about it? “I thought I was helping you.”

She huffs out a breath. “By offering to give me a baby?”

I lean back because I need to put some distance between us. From here, her cherry vanilla scent is filling my nose and making me delirious. “Yes, you told Dom that you wanted to have a baby. Personally, I thought I would be the first person you would think of in this situation.” My hands fist. “I mean, unless you’re seeing someone that I don’t know anything about.”

I can feel my heart racing in my chest, and I try to calm my breathing so she doesn’t notice, but the thought of her seeing someone makes me crazy. For years, I’d thought of her as my little sister. I don’t know what happened or exactly when it changed, but my feelings for her are different now. I want more than her friendship, but it’s not something I can talk to her about.

She cleans up the area, and I watch as she draws out a shot. Her silence is deafening, and I repeat the thought. “Are you seeing someone, Chrissy?”

She rolls her eyes. “Really? We live in WhiskeyRun, Gabe. If I was dating someone, you would have already heard about it.”

I stand up. “Surely if you decided to date someone, you would tell me about it, and I wouldn’t have to find out from someone else.”

She walks toward me. “Drop your pants.”

Shit. I undo the snap on my pants and then pull the zipper down, which is not so easy to do since I have to pull it over my semi-hard cock. I turn to give her my hip. “Chrissy, tell me that if you date some asshole, you’d tell me.”

“Some asshole?”

She gives me the shot, and I don’t even flinch. “Fine. If you decide you’re going to date someone, you’ll tell me.”

She disposes of the needle. “Why would I?”

I growl. “Why wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs. “Well, the last date I went on, you showed up at the Whistler and dirty looked us the whole time.”

Slowly, I shake my head. “I didn’t dirty look you. I dirty looked the asshole that thought it was okay to touch you.”

Her mouth falls open, and she just stares at me.

“What? His hand was on your ass, Chrissy.”

She stomps her foot, and I try to not to smilebecause she looks so cute when she gets mad at me. “We were slow dancing, and his hand was on my lower back.”

“He. Was. Touching. You,” I say, enunciating every word.

She doesn’t back down. She takes a step toward me and gives it back to me. “We. Were. Dancing.”

“Are you going to tell me if you start seeing someone or not?” When she hesitates, I just smirk. “You know what, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll know.”

Her eyes widen. “What does that even mean, you’ll know?”

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