Page 56 of I Knead You Tonight

Drew faces me, her eyes boring into mine.

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing is never nothing,” I remind her.

“I-I th-th…”

Her voice breaks and a single tear rolls down her cheek. I don’t even think twice before reaching over and wiping it away.

“Quit fucking crying,” I say, but there’s no malice in my words. “You know I hate that shit.”

She chuckles, sniffling. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…the crib. You have no idea how much it means to me, Winston.”

“It’s not a big deal, Drew. Certainly not anything to cry over.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s a big deal to me. It’s a big deal to Riker.”

“Riker doesn’t even realize he’s not sleeping in a drawer.”

“Babies are smarter than you think,” she contends as I reluctantly drop my hand from her face, resting it between us. “I’m being serious here, Win. I didn’t have much growing up. I didn’t live a life of luxury. There were a lot of times where I only had peanut butter sandwiches for weeks at a time. I didn’t know my father, and my mother wasn’t exactly compassionate.” Her fingertips run over my open palm, tracing the lines on my hand. “I want to give Riker a better life than I had. I want him to know he’s loved. That crib…it’s proof. So, yeah, it does mean something to him, or at least it will when I tell him the story of it and how his best friend Winston got it for him.”

Anger floods through me. It’s a familiar feeling for me, but it’s not me I’m angry for.

It’s Drew.

Everybody deserves to know what it feels like to be loved.

Especially her.

“Sully is going to be pretty bummed that I’m Riker’s best friend and not him.”

She laughs. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

Her fingers lace with mine and I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. Her eyes trace my movements, and a small smile forms on her lips.

She moves her dark eyes to mine. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome. Seriously. Now go to sleep.”

“Good night, Winston.”

“Night, Drew.”

Slice Nine

Drew

“Son of a bitch!”

“Now, now, that’s no way to address your child.”

I glower back at Winston, who’s leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. “Go away, Winston.”

“Haven’t we established by now that this ismyhouse? I can be in any room I want at any time I want to be in it.”

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