Page 88 of Contingently Yours
As Andrew turns onto the freeway, my eardrums are still vibrating from the monster truck rally. I didn’t hate it. Would I go again? If he’s with me, I suppose, but only if he admits that he’s now a superfan. He bought more memorabilia than any parent there did for their children. Either he’s hooked or he has a junk-buying problem. He said he bought them for me, but I wasn’t the one screaming at the top of my lungs and waving Digger’s flag in the air like a maniac. That sight alone was worth sitting on hard bleachers for two and a half hours.
So, yeah, I’d go anywhere with him. The big idiot. I’m so stupidly in love, it’s comical.
As of tonight, I’ve officially had a boyfriend for two weeks. It’s been full of date after date, followed by night after intimate night. Laughing, snuggling, loving, talking, and more loving. We’ve been big on the loving part, and not always physical. I’d feigned ignorance of our conversation the night prior, after the girls’ wedding, but I remember what I heard. Granted, some of it came back to me slowly and in flashes, but I knew it wasn’t a dream. Andrew is in love with me. It wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t heard it, though. I can see it in his eyes and in the way he treats me. Sometimes, when we’re making love, he looks at me like he’s holding his breath, and I imagine it’s him hoping that I’ll say it next. I’ve never been one to play games, but it’sdifferent this time around. Andrew’s the last partner I’m ever going to say it to because he’s the last partner I’m ever going to have. I know that to my bones. So, I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment.
Glancing over at him, his hair blowing in the breeze from his open car window, a big grin on his face, I think tonight’s the night. I can’t contain it any longer. He looks so damn happy, almost like a kid on Christmas, as though the night couldn’t get any better. He loves to surprise me with things like taking me to that wood carving place on our first date and buying these monster truck show tickets for tonight. I want to surprise him too, even though I don’t see how it’s not obvious that I’m over the damn moon for him.
“Hey!” he yells, clearly temporarily deafened from the night’s loud event. “Are you sure you’re okay from earlier?”
If by earlier he means when I met his parents at lunch, I’m not sure why he’s asking again. They were all right. It was a bit strange at first, like I was eating lunch with two people who were strangers to Andrew. His parents were very affectionate with each other, and his mom was super attentive and sweet to me. Andrew had just stared at them for the first five minutes, as though he was seeing them for the first time and was unable to speak. He loosened up eventually and started rambling on excitedly about some of our outings together and about my family, smiling proudly each time he looked at me. When we left, he seemed a bit dazed for a moment and then turned and gave me a long, silent hug outside on their doorstep.
“Thank you,” was all he had murmured into my neck.
“Yeah. I told you. I enjoyed it,” I assure him. “They seemed really nice.” Something seems off, however, considering his previous description of them. “Do they still give you grief about working for your Uncle Lou?”
He lets out a breathless laugh as he reaches for my hand. “No, come to think of it. They haven’t made a peep since the wedding. Some…thingscame to light. It looks like they’re getting along better, too,” he adds off-handedly. “A lot better.Gross.”
“What’s gross about your parents kissing? Are they one of those couples who kiss all the time? Because, I mean, we’re kind of one of those.” I smirk, not even embarrassed about it.
I can’t help it. I like kissing him.
“Fuck no. They were at war my entire life. They started getting along only recently.”
I can’t see that, but I don’t think he’s being dramatic. He’s toned down the drama level when it comes to serious topics. Ask him to compare two television shows, however, and you get an hour-long diatribe.
“What happened?”
Turning onto the road toward his house, he shakes his head and makes a noncommittal noise. “I don’t know. Something about a disagreement with Uncle Lou,” he mutters. “I don’t want to bore you.”
“I’m not bored.” I laugh. “You’re never boring, that’s for sure.”
“Bore…traumatize, whatever.” He waves a hand. “Trust me, you won’t be able to look at your boss or my father the same way again if you know. Can we please talk about something else?”
Damn. Now, I really want to know, and I’m not even a nosy person.
Speaking of never being looked at the same way, and Lou, though, I still don’t think he believes that we’re dating. On our first day back in the office, we decided to do the professional thing and went in and told him. He just stared at us for a moment and then snorted.
“Yeah, sure,” was his initial response, I think.
“No, we’re serious, Uncle Lou. We’re dating.”
He stared at us, his gaze pinging back and forth for a moment, and then threw a hand up. “Get the fuck out. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I don’t have time for this shit.”
We tried a few more times to assure him it wasn’t a prank, but the door got slammed in our faces after we were swiftly told to get back to work. He’s been eyeing me suspiciously each time I see him ever since, like he thinks I’m in cahoots with Andrew and something is going to pop out of the wall and grab him. I’m about to ask Andrew to start acting like an asshole at work again just so he’ll stop. It’s freaking me out.
“We could talk about how this is only the second time I’ll have spent the night at your house,” I suggest as we pull into his driveway. “Are you embarrassed about your Christmas tree?”
“No,” he responds swiftly.
Liar. That was a happy surprise on the night of our first date. I about broke down and professed my love right then and there when I saw the little piano I carved hanging on it, but I bit my tongue when I considered how much thought he’d put into the evening. I wanted to spread out the happy memories.
“But I’m warning you,” he adds as we get out. “I think the only food I have is some crackers and ice cream.”
Smiling at him over the top of his car, I know his pantry is bare because he’s been warming my bed in Bolton each night. I love that he’s so comfortable there. He says it feels more like a home, and frankly, having him there makes it feel that way. He even says he doesn’t mind when my mother stops by unannounced—which I really need to freaking talk to her about, by the way. Damn my luck that she likes Andrew so much.
“It’s not my fault we’ve been stuck cleaning gutters and painting fences,” I deadpan and make my way up his walk with him.
“Okay, fine. I know you warned me, but she never said her yard was that freaking big. I didn’t know she had, like, five acresof fence. I’m going to be able to open a dojo in California soon with how many times I’ve painted the fence.” Unlocking the door, he turns to me abruptly when we step inside. “Why? Are you sick of me using all your shampoo?”
