Page 8 of This Time Around
He grimaced. “Please remember that when I tell you I’m going to have to sneak out early to meet Vanessa.”
“Wade!”
“Shh! It’s just that she’s leaving town tomorrow for two weeks and this thing she does with her tongue?—”
“You promised!”
“I know! And I’ll stick around through dinner, honest. Maybe even dessert. But now that there’s a kid, maybe you won’t want to stay up late anyway.”
Allie sighed. “Fine. Manwhore.”
Wade grinned and squeezed her arms. He started to let go, but tightened his grip as Jack rounded the corner into the kitchen.
“Oh, sorry—didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” Jack’s gaze darted to Allie’s and she inched closer to Wade, doing her best to look like a woman being pawed by her fiancé instead of a woman whose best friend was trying to keep her from losing her shit.
Maybe it was the same look.
It sure had been when she and Jack dated. They’d always loved the clichés about marrying your best friend, certain the fact that they’d been friends in high school before they started dating would be their ticket to happily ever after. Every sappy pop song, every Love Is comic strip convinced them they could ride that lustful camaraderie to a land of blissful togetherness.
She’d wanted so badly to believe the fairy tale. God, she’d been dumb.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Allie told Jack as Wade planted an awkward kiss on her forehead. She hoped their total lack of chemistry didn’t show. Back when she and Wade had dated, it was one of a dozen reasons they realized they weren’t meant to be anything but friends. Her toes had never curled when Wade kissed her, but they’d damn near rolled into a spiral when Jack used to touch his lips to hers.
She said a silent prayer Jack couldn’t read her mind.
“Need me to help with anything?” he asked.
“Thanks, but we’ve got it.” She handed Wade the loaf of bread he’d picked up earlier. “Can you slice this up, sweetie pie?”
“Sure thing . . . uh, babycakes.”
Jack laughed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I see a few things have changed since college.”
Allie blew a lock of hair off her forehead as she tumbled the clams into the simmering broth. “How so?”
“It drove you nuts when couples called each other pet names,” Jack said. “You rolled your eyes anytime I tried it.”
Allie smiled at the memory as she settled the clams to the bottom of the pot and used a wooden spoon to nudge them around. “That’s because your pet names were ridiculous.”
Jack grinned and began piling Wade’s bread slices into the basket she’d set on the counter, the evil dimples making Allie’s gut clench. “My pet names were not ridiculous,” he insisted.
“Lovey yummers?” she reminded him.
“Well—”
“Puddin’ knickers?”
“You have to admit?—”
“Canned peach half in heavy syrup?”
Allie didn’t realize she’d started laughing until she caught sight of her own reflection in the copper-rimmed mirror next to her kitchen sink. She wiped a smear of pesto off her cheek and glanced at Wade, who was regarding her with an odd expression. Allie tried to shoot him a loving glance, but probably just looked like she had something in her eye.
“So how did you two meet, anyway?” Jack asked.
Allie started to answer, but Wade spoke first, leaving her to telepathically communicate the importance of being vague while sticking close to the truth.
“We met at my office,” Wade said. “My law firm handled her parents’—”
