The phone goes silent, and then I hear, quite distinctly:
“What?” The sound of Declan’s voice roars out of Andrew’s phone. “You’ve never had a woman stay over.”
My whole body goes warm in a flush of radiance.
It’s true.
This is a first for both of us.
“I know. That’s what I mean. This is something different.” Andrew’s voice drops. “Don’t worry.”
Declan says something. Andrew’s face tightens.
“Jesus, not this again, Dec. You and I have to agree to disagree. We all have our own risk levels we’re comfortable with.”
Declan says something I don’t understand, and Andrew laughs.
“Right. I won’t ruin your wedding. I promise.” The sound of Andrew gets closer and I realize I can’t be found hiding, so I move, acting as if I were just walking out.
He smiles at me, eyes combing over my body.
I walk past him to find two hot cups of coffee on the counter. I pick one up, then go to the fridge to find milk.
No milk.
The man has three beers, a lime, and a half gallon of orange juice in a fridge the size of an SUV.
I close the door and resign myself to drinking black coffee.
“Gotta go. Okay. Bye.” Andrew ends the call and gives me a look I can’t read.
“Everything fine?” I ask, blowing on the hot coffee and then taking a sip. I make a face. As much as I need the caffeine, black coffee is bitter.
“Yeah. Business stuff.”
Liar.
“You drink your coffee black?” he asks, surprised.
“Actually, no. Your fridge looks like a frat boy lives here.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t eat in much. How do you normally take your coffee?”
I take another sip of coffee. Then a full swallow. It’s not so bad.
“A latte.”
“Whole or skim?”
“I’m learning to like breves, actually.”
He picks up his phone, types something, and puts it down.
We stand there.
Ah. So this is the awkward part.
“Want to go drink coffee on the balcony?” I ask. “It looks gorgeous outside.”
A brief moment of panic flashes in his eyes, but he tamps it down so fast I’m not quite sure I ever saw it.
“You look great in a sheet,” he says as I choke down more black coffee. He picks up his mug and downs half the liquid in one gulp. He doesn’t move toward the balcony, but he doesn’t acknowledge my question, either.
“It’s my toga look.”
“You’re prettier without it.”
I blush. I also just stand there, because I really don’t know what to do next. He doesn’t want to go outside, he’s acting really strangely...
He decides for me, crossing the room and putting his arms around me. “Last night was amazing.”
“Yes.”
“And this morning was...” He lets out a puff of air. “Thank you.” The kiss he gives me removes half the awkwardness.
But only half.
“I have a business trip,” he says as he presses his forehead against mine. Coffee breath fills the space between us.
“Today?”
He nods. “I’ll be gone for a week.”
My stomach plummets with disappointment, but all say is, “Okay.”
“I want to see you when I get back. I wish I could take you with me.”
“I have to work.” And go out on dates, I think. My face must betray my thoughts, because he gives me a questioning look.
I stay silent. No point in telling him I’ll be going on six dates while he’s gone, right?
“Next Saturday, though, you’re mine.”
His words give me a jolt no caffeine could ever manage.
“And for the next thirty minutes, too,” he says, taking my hand and slowly walking me back to the bed.
Twenty minutes later, Andrew’s had breakfast in bed, too. I am a boneless collection of well-satisfied flesh, and the door buzzer buzzes again.
I groan. Andrew gets up.
And returns with a breve latte someone must have just delivered.
“Now that’s what I call breakfast in bed,” I say as I snuggle against him.
“I liked your version better,” he says, giving me a kiss.
By the time we shower and part ways, I realize I never did get a chance to go out on that beautiful balcony and take in the ocean air.
Oh, well.
There’s always next time.
Chapter Twenty
“You are sweating more than a woman in her third trimester of pregnancy in Texas in August.”
“I can’t help it if I’m a stress sweater!” Josh snaps back. “Some of you are stress eaters. I’m a stress perspirer.”
“It makes you moist,” I say, letting go of his hand. For the sake of this childbirth class mystery shop, we’re supposed to pose as a happy couple. Hard to do that when you’re holding hands with a gay man whose palm feels like a wet diaper.
“Don’t say ‘moist.’ I hate that word.”
It took nearly a month, but the childbirth class evaluation is in full force. Josh and I have to attend two of these four-hour classes here at the hospital with a birthing center attached, which means we get the most “natural birth”-oriented class in the city. Andrew is out of town—again—and I haven’t seen him for over a week.
Again.
That night he turned off his phone was the longest stretch of uninterrupted time I’ve had with him since we started dating. He’s supposed to come home today for some board meeting, but so far I haven’t heard from him since he boarded the company jet this morning.