Page 61 of One Week Hating You
“Oh, it’s just a text from Corrie,” I tell her. “She can be so funny sometimes.”
She makes a tsk sound. “She sure can. She’s definitely interesting, that one.”
I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult. I don’t ponder it too long.
I’ve been so busy helping Momma get dinner and the table ready, I’ve barely had a moment to obsess about Blake. Yet, when he finally shows up, holding Jake in his arms, looking delicious in dark jeans and a blue knit sweater, my traitorous heart weeps. It whispers,you’re really not going there again? What a pity.
“Auntie Maeve,” Maddie cheers as she throws herself into my arms. She’s always so full of energy – she takes that from her dad. Brian presses a large hand on my back and pulls me in. “Hey, Sis. Long time, no see.”
Brian is as tall as Blake, but they don’t really look like brothers at all. Blake looks more like their father did; dark almond eyes, a strong nose, full lips, and a thick dark head of hair, whereas Brian looks like their late mother; light eyes, a small nose and mouth, and lighter hair.
We catch up, and between playing with the kids and hearing about everyone’s lives, I barely have a chance to catch my breath, let alone focus on Blake. But every time I glance over in his direction, he’s watching me. He smiles, an impish grin that makes my knees weak and brings me right back there, on that old rusty freezer.
The dinner conversation is lively as we enjoy Momma’s fabulous lasagna and apple pie. I can’t remember the last time it was this fun. These past few years, Peter has always been here, and my whole family doesn’t quite seem themselves around him, even the kids. They don’t joke around or laugh as much, as if they’re afraid he’ll judge them. Yes, Peter is a bit posh, from a more affluent background, but he can be pretty down-to-earth. They never gave him the chance, never really got to know him.
And Blake was never invited to dinner when we visited. Momma knew better than to mix boyfriends and ex-boyfriends. Blake, as cocky as he is, is good with the kids, and is pretty funny. I hate to say it but he’s fun to have around.
I’m munchingon some after-dinner chocolate covered almonds. I’ve already had pie, but what the hell… life is short and I love chocolate. I watch the kids play Jenga, and I’m quite entertained. I’ve barely glanced at Blake since dinner – I don’t want to see what I’m missing.
He sits down next to me on the old seventies velvet flower covered sofa. I can’t believe Momma hasn’t replaced this old thing yet. It probably holds sentimental value for her. It certainly does for me. Every time I sit on it, I remember reading stories or playing Scrabble with Daddy, or making out with Blake. Two polar opposite memories. Sweet and naughty.
“You want to play Scrabble,” he jokes. Blake also used to be a fan of Scrabble.
I look down at my t-shirt and smile. “Nah…”
He nudges in closer… too close. “I could go for a nice cup of tea,” he whispers.
I bite down a smile and squeeze my legs shut. Blake doesn’t drink tea. Cup of tea means sex in our little world. Back in the day, we used to take cups of tea to the old fashioned swing out back, the one my dad built, the one sheltered behind the trees. We’d never drink the tea, of course. We’d just make out on the swing until darkness came and the chill of the night cooled our bones.
I close my eyes. I really want this. I want to make out on the swing again. I want to feel his touch, taste his lips. Yet I’m determined to stick to my guns. I pop another almond in my mouth. That’s it! I’ll eat the whole bowl and satisfy myself with chocolate instead. “No, thank you.”
I’m really doing it. I’m resisting him and his beautiful mouth. The chocolate must be really working. I wonder if Momma has more of these in the cupboard. I might have to run out to the store.
He leans closer, his mouth hot on my cheek. “You’re going to put on a skirt, and meet me in the back,” he whispers. “In five.”
He pulls away and stands. He turns to look at me one last time. His eyes are as intense as they were just before he had me on the freezer. He turns on his heel and walks slowly out of the room.
Darn, I was doingsowell.
