I don’t know what to do now. Jeremy has a good story premise, and technically there’s no fault in his writing. But. I walk to the window to stare out like he does when he’s thinking. I wish I’d never asked to read this. How can I tell him it’s not working? No, that’s not right. The story’s working on the surface. But Jeremy’s missing from it. His heart isn’t in this story, and it shows. And he knows that, of course. He knows he can’t finish this. That’s why he’s postponing our baby.
What can I do to help him? No amount of hot sex is going to fix this problem. This lack of inspiration. I think back to when he told me about Ethan inspiring him to write Wanting More, his first romance novel. And Ethan always gets him going when he tells me stories of their adventures growing up together. I grab my phone and check the current time in London. Not quite eleven, Ethan could still be awake. I text him. He doesn’t bother with a reply; he just calls.
“What’s wrong?” he says before I can even say hello.
“Nothing. I mean, it’s not an emergency or anything.”
“Right. So what’s up?”
“Could you use some California sun?”
I’m in the kitchen, dousing chicken parts with a marinade when Jeremy comes home from the club. He drops his gym bag on the floor and sorts through the mail he grabbed on his way in. Since we’ve been together, the mail no longer depresses me. No need to sort it into three piles of bills that must be paid now, bills to be paid next month—hopefully—and bills to ignore until they come marked with a big red final notice. Jeremy never had that problem, of course. I look at him towering over me and wonder if financial stress can stunt your growth. I should Google that.
His hair is still damp from the shower and not pulled into a tail. He looks so damn sexy, I’m jealous of all the women who saw him at the club and during his drive home. My girly parts heat up, and it occurs to me that a little romp in bed would delay the writing critique he’s expecting.
He lays the mail on the counter. “Ethan called.”
“Did he?” My voice gives no hint that I’d planned that call with Ethan. I cover the chicken and slide the dish in the fridge.
“He asked if he could come for a visit, and I hope you don’t mind, but I told him he was welcome to.”
“Of course I don’t mind. You know I love Ethan.” I take off my prep gloves and throw them in the trash.
“He didn’t give much notice; he’s arriving day after tomorrow.”
“No problem.” I turn on the water in the sink to start the washing up.
“It’s probably not a good time to take a break from work, though. Did you read—”
“Let’s go to bed.” I turn off the water.
Surprise lifts his brows, but then he grins and pulls me to him. “Must be some aphrodisiac in the water here.”
Men are way too easy to distract.
He starts undressing me as we kiss our way to the bedroom. Sometimes I let myself think about the other women Jeremy’s made love to—a lot of them according to Ethan—and I get a little jealous, but really, if they taught him what he knows about sex, I should thank them. He’s only disappointed me twice, and that was because he’d had too much to drink. A damn good score if you ask me.
Today, he’s in one of his slow moods, teasing me with his mouth and fingers until he’s driving me insane with desire. He doesn’t ask what I want, what feels good. He just knows. There’s a lot to be said for a confident lover. Someday I’m going to capture exactly how he makes me feel in my writing, and that book will make me a fortune.
An eternity later, he gives me what he’s made me wait for. And it’s just as glorious as the first time. I am a very lucky woman.
Afterward, I’m so exhausted I feel myself drifting off to sleep. Sweet, contented sleep.
My surprise seduction only delayed my giving Jeremy feedback on his manuscript, of course, but I try to delay it longer by going back to work as soon as I wake from my nap. Then while he’s on the phone, I slip into the kitchen and start cooking dinner. While we eat, I chatter non-stop about Ethan’s visit. And then I volunteer to take his turn cleaning up afterward, hoping he’ll go back to the office to work. Instead, he’s in the living room, watching the stock report and waiting for me to finish in the kitchen. As soon as I sit down beside him, he turns off the TV.
“You read the file I sent you?”
“I did.”
“I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
“Oh. Yes. Um … in general? On some specific aspect? Or what?”
“Let’s start with overall.”
Crap. Where’s the diversion of an earthquake, a wildfire, a massive thunderstorm, some natural disaster when you need one?
“Well, I really admire how detailed your outlines are. I wish you were still doing that for the romances. You know how scatter-brained I am, always distract—”
“Chelsea?”
I laugh. “See?” He doesn’t smile. “Okay, well, yeah the outline is great. And the synopsis, again, detailed … but not too detailed. Perfect, I’d say. Not cluttered with minor stuff.” I take a breath. “Could I get you something to drink?”
He holds up the beer he’s been drinking this whole time. “Go on.”
“Mm-hmm. Well, yeah, you’ve plotted so well. And your characters—”
“Chelsea? The story?”
I gaze through the windows at the sky, bronzed from the descending sun, as though I’m only collecting my thoughts, not desperately trying to figure out how to say something encouraging. “The opening paragraphs are riveting. You know, I should have you read mine again, I think there’s something lacking, and you always write those so well. That wouldn’t be cheating. After all, you were Penny James before I was.”
His beautiful ocean eyes bore into me.
“Okay. Well, I think … because the synopsis is fine, the story’s there … so it’s probably just because what I read was first draft.”
After a minute, he frowns and motions for me to continue.
“What?”
“You didn’t finish your thought.”
“I didn’t?” God, my fake innocence is pathetic.
Jeremy huffs a sigh. “Do you need a drink?”
“Yes, please. Do we have the stuff to make me one of those cocktails you made me in London last year?”
He sets down his beer and stands. “I thought you went off those.”
“Oh, yeah. I did. Never mind. I’ll get me a Coke.” As he sits, I stand.
I take as long as possible, well, reasonably possible, as I can to get the can from the fridge, open it, and drink a third of it before I return to the sofa. Thankfully, a text notification sounds on my phone. It’s a video from Gabi. “Aww, it’s Marco. Look.” I hold out my phone and play it again so Jeremy can see. “Isn’t he cute?”
“Adorable.”
Jeremy finishes his beer while I text back to Gabi. I’m such a horrible wife. I set my phone aside and scoot closer to him. “I think you have a great start on your book.”
He looks into my eyes for a thousand years. Then he kisses me sweetly but doesn’t say anything. He just turns away, picks up the remote, and turns on the TV.
Holding on to a tiny chance that I fooled him, I go back to the kitchen to get him another beer.
CHAPTER 4
Ethan arrives today. He and Jeremy have known each other even longer than Gabi and I have, and they’re just as close. Both men are handsome but look nothing alike. Jeremy is taller, leaner, aristocratic looking. Ethan’s a puppy with a wolfish grin. His golden eyes, outlined in thick, dark lashes, are his most remarkable feature and contrast strikingly with his curly black hair that always looks like he’s just run his hands through it. He’s boyish and sexy at the same time. But the most contradictory thing about him is that he pretends a shallow nonchalance when he’s actually a tender, caring person. And the person he cares most about is Jeremy’s sister, Laura. Not that Jeremy, or even Laura, knows that. I may be the only person Ethan’s con
fessed to.
I’m excited about his visit because I know it will relax Jeremy, bring him out of the self-imposed anxiety that’s strangling his creativity. Besides that, Ethan’s just fun to be around. He teases Jeremy mercilessly by bringing up events of their mutual past that Jeremy would rather forget—or, more likely, would rather I know nothing about. I’ve made sure the bar is stocked because the more they drink, the wilder their stories get.
I didn’t go with Jeremy to pick up Ethan at the airport, because I overslept and couldn’t get ready in time. As I walk around the house doing a last-minute tidying, I keep thinking of advice I wish I’d given Ethan on how to approach Jeremy’s writing block. Most importantly, he needs to be subtle. But I’m afraid that’s like expecting the Kardashians not to flash their bling on Instagram.
The guys arrive just as I finish triple checking the guest room. I run to greet Ethan with a big hug.
“I wish everyone was as happy to see me,” he says. “Jeremy barely slowed his car enough in the arrivals lane for me to jump in.”
“That’s not—” He grimaces when Ethan winks at me. “Ha. Ha.”
Ethan steps back and gives me a once over. “What? No neon colors in your hair? You’re taking this adulting thing too far.” He turns to Jeremy. “This must be your doing, mate. Making her old before her time.”
“I have nothing to do with—” Jeremy’s stopped by Ethan’s grin and my laugh. “Not funny,” he mutters.
“Like hell,” I say. “It’s hilarious how easily Ethan winds you up.”
Jeremy scowls at me. “Traitor.”
I put on my pout face. “You don’t love me anymore?”
Ethan puts an arm around my shoulders. “That’s all right, luv. He wasn’t good enough for you anyway.”
Jeremy sneers. “Oh, like you are?” He pulls me away from Ethan.
“Scoundrel!” Ethan cries. “We shall settle this with pistols at dawn!”
Jeremy grabs me around the waist and bends me back in a dramatic Hollywood embrace and gives me a long, passionate kiss. Then he smirks at Ethan. “I believe I’ve already settled it.”
Ethan fakes a yawn and then yawns for real. “Sorry. I’ve been up for over twenty-four hours.”
“No problem.” I take his arm. “I’ll show you your room. Nap as long as you need to. But I hope you don’t mind that I’ve planned a small dinner party for tonight.”
“As long as Jeremy’s not cooking, I’m in.”
Jeremy’s filling the ice bucket, and I’m cooking when Ethan wakes and joins us.
“Something smells delicious,” he says to me.
“Prime rib. Gabi and Matt are coming for dinner.”
“Brilliant.” He looks toward the front door as it opens. “And here’s la bella donna now.”
Gabi grins but shakes her head. “Watch out, you flirt. Never mess with a jealous Italian husband.”
Matt throws a mock punch at Ethan.
It’s going to be a fun night.
Soon, Gabi and I are in the kitchen while the guys are drinking and arguing the merits of their favorite sports. She’s tossing the salad. I’m grilling the asparagus. I cooked the potatoes with the roast, just the way Jeremy loves them.
Gabi grabs my wine glass and takes a hefty sip.
“Gabi …”
“One tablespoon of wine is not going to hurt the baby. Matt’s mother thinks I’m nuts for not having a glass a day like she did through her six pregnancies.”
“I’ll be terrified of messing up the whole time I’m pregnant.”
“Which could begin any day.”
Feeling like a total fraud, I fake a smile. I told her about Jeremy’s writer’s block, but I left out the part about his baby decision. If all goes as planned with Ethan’s visit, I’ll never have to tell her that.
Finally, dinner is ready. “Call the guys.”
Later, after the salad is cleared away, Gabi and I bring in the roast and sides. We’ve all learned that Jeremy’s talents do not include handling kitchen knives well, so Matt carves the prime rib. I pass around my made-from-scratch horseradish sauce, which I now realize I never taste tested. I lick a bit off my finger and gag.
“Ohmygod. Don’t eat the sauce.” I grab the dish out of Ethan’s hand. Everyone’s staring at me. “Something’s wrong with it.”
Gabi tastes it. She looks at me like I’m crazy. “It’s fine. Like always.”
Ethan takes the dish back, spoons some on his plate, and and then forks some into his mouth. He shrugs. “Tastes good to me.” He passes the bowl to Jeremy, who tastes and declares it perfect.
I try to taste it again but gag just from the smell. Looks like I’m eating my beef plain tonight. Soon everyone’s engrossed in eating and my weird taste buds are forgotten.
We end the meal with raspberry sorbet, and though everyone said they couldn’t eat another bite, they all do. We’ve discussed many topics during dinner, none too serious, so I think the rest of us are a little surprised when Matt says to Ethan, “When are you getting married?”
Ethan blinks and then just looks at Matt, his lips parted as if waiting for a response to come to him.
Jeremy jumps in to offer one. “When is never, because his reputation precedes him in all of England.”
For just a second, I think I see hurt pass over Ethan’s face, but then he laughs.
“Then you’d better start looking farther afield, man,” Matt says.
“Too right,” Ethan says with another laugh.
It’s not my imagination that the farther afield look in his eyes stretches all the way to Hawaii.
The guys help clear the table and then move back to the living room while Gabi and I clean up in the kitchen. As I pick up the dish to rinse out the rest of the horseradish sauce, I take a cautious sniff and gag again. I can’t figure that out. I love this sauce. It’s my mom’s recipe, and I’ve been eating it since I was a child.
Gabi nudges me. “Do you think Ethan will ever make a move on Laura?” I don’t know why she whispered that; the guys are whooping it up so loudly they couldn’t possibly hear her.
“I don’t know. It’s heartbreaking. It must kill him that she’s in Hawaii with Dusty.”
“Maybe that’s why he came here—to help get his mind off her.”
“No, I invited him, but Jeremy doesn’t know that.”
She shoots me a look. “And why didn’t I know this? Why did you ask him to come?”
“I thought maybe some time with Ethan might help Jeremy break through his writer’s block.”
“Ah,” she says. “Good idea.”
“We’ll see.”
With the guys, full stomachs never mean there’s not room for more alcohol, and by the time we join them, they’re already pretty jolly. They’re watching Family Feud and yelling out answers, the more suggestive the funnier apparently.
When a question about pregnancy comes up, Ethan turns to Gabi and Matt and says, “I forgot to congratulate you.”
“Thanks,” Gabi says.
“We’re at the stage where I can’t fucking breathe on her tits without her screaming,” Matt says.
Ethan’s mouth drops open.
“Oh-kayyy.” Gabi grabs Matt’s glass. “That’s enough for you.”
“Hey,” Matt says, reaching for his glass. “What’s your problem?”
“Too much information, Matt.”
“I’m just telling the truth, babe. You’re horny as hell, but I can’t—”
“That’s it.” Gabi sets his glass on the coffee table and stands. “I’m sure we’ll see you later, Ethan.” She grabs Matt’s arm and jerks him to his feet. “Thanks for dinner, Chels. Night, Jeremy.”
“I don’t wanna go,” Matt whines as he’s letting her lead him toward the door. “Why are we leaving?”
Gabi mumbles something.
“What’d I say?” are the last words we hear before the door closes.
Ethan and Jeremy, also under the influence, are cracking up so hard th
ey’re practically sliding off the sofa. I glance down at my glass of wine, an alarm ringing in my head.
I walk into the kitchen and dump my wine down the sink before rejoining Jeremy and Ethan in the living room. They’ve straightened up and turned on the Xbox. Within minutes they’re engrossed in Rocket League, which is just as well because my mind is elsewhere. I text Gabi, asking her to call when she can, then switch my phone to silent.
As I pretend to watch them playing the game, I eat a Popsicle and mentally chant: you’re not pregnant. I simply can’t be. Jeremy will freak if I am. But why haven’t I got my period yet? I Google “earliest signs of pregnancy,” reading the results in sneak peeks. Spotting, check; tender breasts, check; sleepiness, check. And then there’s the taste thing. And ohmygod, in the comments a woman says her first symptom is always that she just vomits out of the blue. I did that!
Gabi’s face pops up on my phone as I’m throwing my Popsicle stick in the trash. I walk out of the kitchen and down the hall with no explanation to Jeremy and Ethan. Not that they noticed. I swipe to answer when I turn the corner in the hall and whisper, “Hold on.” I shut myself in the bedroom, plop down on the bed among the throw pillows. “I’m afraid I’m pregnant,” I say, still keeping my voice low in case Jeremy comes to check on me.
“Hello to you too,” Gabi says. “And what do you mean ‘afraid’?”
I twist a tassel on one of the pillows. “I didn’t tell you something.”
After a moment of silence on my end, Gabi says, “Which is …”
I’ve wound the tassel so tightly that all the blood in my finger is pulsing in the tip. “Jeremy doesn’t want a baby.”
She laughs. “Where did you get that idea? He’s been all for it since the beginning. You were the one who—”
“He changed his mind. It’s all because he says he can’t write that damn book, and he’ll have to forfeit the advance, so we can’t afford—”
“That’s why you got Ethan over here.”
“Right. If Jeremy can finish the book—well, no, I’m not sure he can fix that one, but if Ethan can remind him of things they’ve gone through together, or even just why he started writing in the first place, maybe Jeremy can get inspired with a new story. A better story.” I free my finger and toss the pillow across the room. “Oh, God. He’s going to kill me.”
Open & Honest (Sometimes) (A High Tea & Flip-Flops Novel Book 3) Page 5