Page 103 of The Other Guy

We untangle from each other and take large swigs of beer in an effort to cool off. But we don’t separate too much. Holding hands across the table, playing footsie under the table, leaning over the table so our faces are next to each other. The damn table is like our chaperone, keeping us from getting too close.

“I forgot to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” He leans back in his chair while his eyes stay locked on mine.

“You know how I had breakfast with that lady this morning?”

“Your new friend?”

I laugh because it sounds like something a mother would say to her elementary school-aged kid. “Yeah. Mallory. She talked about kind of joining our businesses.”

“Really? Like you’d not have your own anymore?”

Shaking my head, I clarify and scoot over to the chair closer to him so I’m not yelling across the table. “I’d still have it and she’d still have hers. But we’d bring one together, too. We’d offer matching outfits since she makes stuff for babies and kids, and I make stuff for pets.”

His eyes light up. “Like matching Halloween costumes or shit for holiday pictures?”

“Exactly.”

“Sierra. That’s awesome.”

“I know! And… well, possibly we’d open up a little shop together. Until then, that “friend” of my uncle’s said I could sell some stuff in her store, you know?”

He looks around nervously. “Wow. So you’re really planning to stick around, huh?”

“Appears so?” I ask rather than say, a little worried now that I’ve been misreading the situation entirely.

He winces. “I probably should have told you earlier… I’m actually married with fourteen kids. I left my family in our one room love nest in the mountains so I could come live the single life for a few weeks.”

I open my mouth in shock and splay my hands out wide. “No way! When my husband got out of prison for murdering his own mother and brother because he caught them having sex and cheating on him, he offered to watch our kids so I could have some alone time. That’s actually what I’ve been doing here.”

“How many?”

“Twelve.”

He scoffs. “Amateur.”

“I know.” I nod sadly. “I’m actually pregnant right now.” My shoulders lift in a shrug as I place my hands on my stomach, pushing it out a little. “Hoping for triplets,” I say, crossing my fingers then chug down the rest of my beer.

“Want a cigarette, too?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I like to stick to smoking weed when I’m pregnant. Nicotine does funny things to me.”

“Good woman.”

We laugh hysterically and our waiter returns to see if we need refills. Jack declines, saying that he needs to drive us home and I figure switching to something non-alcoholic might be best if I’m going to ride a mechanical bull. I wasn’t really lying earlier about peeing my pants if I get drunk. We each order a Sprite and Jack tosses me a glare when he hands the waiter some cash even before he brings our drinks back.

“Can’t let that shit happen again.”

“Seriously, Jack. It is not a big deal.”

“I know that. And I’m also not some dick who thinks a woman can’t hold her own. But treating you tonight is important to me. Even if it’s just buying your drinks and opening the doors, I want you to feel it.”

“It?”

“Cherished. Special. Wooed.”

If that’s the same as swooning then I just about did it now. I can’t remember the last time someone cherished me. Aside from Uncle Kyle, that is.

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