Page 48 of Carry On
“I didn’t know we had a topic.” At this point, we were just talking about whatever random shit popped into one of our heads.
“We were trying to get to know each other, so that we’re convincing,” he reminded me. Oh, yeah. That.
Yes, the thing his entire well-being relies on,the voice commented.
“Fine. Let’s see…” I strummed and plucked at the strings to fill the silence. “All right. What’s your name?”
“Lincoln Cassidy, you know this.”
“No middle name?”
“I have a middle name.”
“Oh, yeah?” I arched a brow, his evasiveness piquing my interest. Whatever it was, it had to be ridiculous. “What is it?”
“You don’t need to know that,” Lincoln responded quickly with a shake of his head.
“Your husband would know that,” I pointed out. I strummed through a comical tune to add to my montage. “What if I’m out meeting your stuffyfriends one day, and you get hit by a car, and we have to go to the hospital, and they ask for your name—”
“No one is asking for my middle name in that situation,” he interjected.
“You never know.” I shrugged, making him exhale heavily.
“Melvin,” he said under his breath. “My full name is Lincoln Melvin Cassidy.”
For a heartbeat, I stared at him, just waiting for him to break a smile. To give me a sign that he was fucking with me. When it became clear that he wasn’t, I broke down laughing. I couldn’t help it. It was so goddamn stupid.
“Your middle name is Melvin?” I demanded.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “And what’s your middle name?”
Shit. That sobered me real fast.
“Not so funny when you’re put on the spot, is it?” Lincoln demanded. “What’s your middle name, Nash?”
“Melvin,” I answered a little too sarcastically.
“Fucker. Your middle name isn’t Melvin,” he said. “What happens if you get hit by a car, and we go to the hospital, and they ask for your middle name?”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“I’m hilarious when I want to be,” he replied. “I’m also right.”
“Fine. It’s Nash,” I told him.
“Your name is Nash Nash Calhoun?” His eyes narrowed. Yup. It sounded just as dumb coming out of his mouth as it did in my head.
“My first name is Patrick,” I told him. “But a guy can only be called Patty so many times before he’s fucking over it.”
“A guy can only be called Annie so many times before he joins the dark side,” Lincoln muttered under his breath.
“What the fuck are you going on about?” I asked, not understanding a word that came out of his mouth.
“Nothing.” The faintest blush crept over his cheeks in the most adorable way. “So Patrick Nash Calhoun.”
“Hm…close.” God, this was stupid to admit. “My middle name is Nashville.”
“Like the city.”
