Page 75 of Floored (Frenched 3)
“Yes. He said he wants to see the girl who got me to go to a ballet. I told him when he sees you, he’ll understand.”
Grinning, I hopped up and straddled him. “I’m excited.”
“I can tell. Remind me to invite you to lunch more often.”
“Stop it.” I slapped at his stomach, then pitched forward to lay on his chest, burying my face into his neck. “It’s not the lunch I’m excited about, silly.”
“What is it?”
I grinned happily. “I don’t know. Everything.”
He kissed the top of my head, wrapping his arms around me. “I know exactly what you mean.”
#
The next day, I went to the mall with Mia to do some Christmas shopping. “Are you getting a gift for Charlie?” she asked, searching for a parking spot in the structure.
“I already got him a bottle of Irish whiskey and some old-fashioned glasses, but I also want to pick up some towels for him.”
“Towels?”
“Yeah, he likes these fluffy white Turkish cotton ones at my house. I got them at Restoration Hardware, so I can grab some today.”
She eyed me sideways. “He likes the towels at your house? Does this mean he’s showering there?”
I opened the car door. “It might,” I said coyly.
“Erin Marie Upton! What’s the scoop?” She jumped out and slammed the door. “Did you guys have the talk? Or are you showering but not dating?”
I laughed when she grabbed my arm and shook me. “Yes, we talked. Yes, we’re dating. And showering.”
“Eek! And?”
“And it’s good,” I said as we walked toward the entrance to Macy’s. “He’s still a little hesitant and I’m still a little paranoid, but we’re doing OK. He’s introducing me to his grandfather on Sunday. I was thinking of asking him to Christmas Eve at my mom’s house, too.”
“How sweet!” She pulled open the heavy glass door and I took it from her.
“Hey, don’t open that. It’s heavy. You need to be careful.” I held it open so she could go through first, but she rolled her eyes.
“Please. Between my mother’s visit and Lucas fawning all over me every second, I’ve barely lifted a finger to brush my own teeth this week.”
“We worry about you. How are you feeling?” I walked beside her into the warm, noisy late-December bustle of the mall.
“Pretty good. This morning, anyway. So let’s get moving before I have to barf again.”
I made a face. “Yuck. Remind me not to have kids.”
She laughed. “I’ll do no such thing. You and Charlie would have adorable babies.”
“Mia!” I elbowed her. “Don’t even.”
But for the first time—ever—my fantasy that night didn’t involve a vibrator, handcuffs, or even an orgasm. Just a real tree, Charlie and me, and four little hands tearing into their presents, blue eyes shining. I told myself to be careful. I told myself to wait. I told myself not to count on anything.
But I fell asleep smiling.
#
My mother had been pestering me to come over all week. I’d been avoiding her because I had a feeling she wanted to grill me about Charlie. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell her about us, but I felt strangely protective of what we had. I knew she was hoping one of her kids would get married soon and give her some grandchildren. My brother was twenty-five and buried in his final year of law school at Michigan, so he was out. It was too much pressure for me. But on Friday afternoon, I finally gave in and went to her house for a quick cup of coffee before work.
