Page 91 of Drilled (Dad Bod Contracting 2)
“I knew if you didn’t, I’d just…move in.” I push a strand of hair away from his eye. “I don’t ever want to spend another night apart from you.”
“Good,” he says. “I wasn’t planning on letting you.”
A long, easy quiet settles between us.
“Franco?”
“Hmmm?”
“Are we taking this from zero to a hundred way too fast?”
“Yeah. But this has been developing between us for months.” He’s so sleepy, now. He only slept a few hours on the leg from Atlanta to Chicago, while I slept the whole time.
I feel him falling asleep, and I drowse with him, content, happy, in love…and not at all scared of it anymore.
Epilogue
Once it was clear that Franco was asleep and I wasn’t going to sleep again anytime soon, I hold him, his head cradled against my breast, and sort through emails from the last week and a half, mostly updates and questions from my clients. Then I answer a barrage of texts from Imogen, asking for updates. I text her a photo of us right now, Franco’s head on my chest, his hand on my breast.
I include a message beneath the photo: I’m selling my condo and moving in with him.
Imogen sends a shocked face emoji, and then an all-caps text: OMG!! ARE YOU F-ING SERIOUS??!!
I send back the same shocked face. Totally legit. Should be moved in here within a month, max.
Imogen: You’re sure? I mean, that’s fast, Audra.
Me: Never been more sure of anything in my life. It’s just…right.
Me: And, Imogen? Thank you. More than I can say.
Imogen: We just gave you a little nudge. Me, Jesse, and James.
At that moment, my phone rings: LAUREL MADISON.
I answer the phone, using the quietest whisper possible. “Hey, Laurel. I was thinking about you, actually. I’ve been a shitty friend lately, and I’m sorry. I said we’d stay in contact, but I sort of fell off the face of the earth.”
She responds, but it’s distorted, tangled in sobs. “I—he—we—”
“Laurel, Laurel, breathe. Calm down. Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”
She takes a few steadying breaths. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“What wasn’t?”
“Him. Us. This whole thing.”
“Who?”
“RYDER!” she wails. “Oh god, I’m so stupid.”
“Laurel—what happened?”
“I’m so, so stupid. I knew it was a dumb idea, and I did it anyway.”
“Did what? Dammit, woman, talk sense.”
She laughs. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just distraught.”
“You think?”
“I went on a date with him, and it was great. We went on another date, and it was great. Three dates, then a fourth.”
“Laurel.”
“What?”
“What did you do?”
“I fell for him.”
“And?”
She sighs. “You of all people should understand, Audra! He’s not the kind of guy you fall for. He said so himself, right before he stopped answering my texts and calls.”
“Oh.” I pause, because what I’d normally, instinctively tell her doesn’t jibe with my newfound state of being. “I mean, he can’t be that hard to track down, can he?”
“Probably not, but…”
“But what, Laurel.”
“Do I want to track him down? What would I say if I did?” She sighs yet again. “I knew better than to let myself like Ryder, but I couldn’t help it.”
“Do you need a girls’ night? You, Nova, Imogen, and me?”
“Yes!” She sounds pathetically grateful. “And then you guys can talk me out of liking him.”
“Well, I can’t guarantee that will happen. That part might be tricky.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” she says, laughing. “But you can try.”
“Tomorrow, or today, whatever. How about after work—say seven. There’s this great Mexican place Imogen and I have been going to for years. You guys will love it. We’ll get hammered on margaritas and eat too many corn chips and you can tell us about Ryder.”
“I don’t want to tell you about him, I want to forget him!”
“If he’s anything like Franco, then good luck, honey.”
She groans. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
