Page 66 of Act Like You Don't Care
"But that's his baby right?" Nick gave me a look when I nodded, then added, "More like deep under covers, from the sound of it."
I grimaced, but he was right. "Yeah, it was stupid."
"I don't know about that." Nick turned the car and took us down Main Street. "I don't think he was as indifferent as you think he was."
"It's Hollywood. Nothing's real there." Except Miles. Miles had been real, in ways I hadn't even recognized until it was too late, except for the one way that it had mattered the most.
Thankfully, Nick dropped the subject and we spent the rest of the drive talking about his family.
Nick parked in Shane’s driveway, behind a little gray sedan. I took a deep breath and dried my suddenly damp palms on my jeans, but before I could force myself out of the car, Nick reached across to lay a hand on mine.
“You know, we’ve all been there.”
I nodded and stared straight ahead at the steps leading up to the door. Something was moving inside the window, something that looked furry. “When did Shane get a dog?”
Nick shrugged and opened his door. “A while ago. Come on, let’s go in.” He closed the door and came around to my side of the car to pull my suitcase out of the back seat and then stand outside the passenger door, staring at me until I gave up and pulled the handle.
I heard voices as I got out of the car, and muffled barking, then the door opened and someone said, “Max, sit! Conner, can you take him out back and play with him or something?”
A boy, not quite a teenager, came out the door and grabbed the dog by the collar. “Come on, let’s go play with your stick.” The dog didn’t want to go, he was barking and tail-wagging, his tongue lolling excitedly out of his mouth as he bounced back and forth, trying to close the distance between us. Conner had to haul on the dog, who seemed determined to come and visit me, but he eventually managed to convince his pet to leave us alone.
“Tam,” Shane said and walked down the steps in his sock feet to shake my hand. He looked me over, then pulled me into a hug. “Come in. Kade’s putting the finishing touches on supper. I hope you like lasagna.”
“Love it,” I said cheerily. I did, but I had to fight not to wince when I thought about the calories.
“Good. The kids do too. It makes it easier to feed them if we’re making things they like.” He laughed and winked at Nick. “Is that your suitcase, Tam?”
“It is.” I reached for it, but Nick just shook his head.
“We’re going to shove it off into a corner for now.” He turned to Shane. “Does that food invitation extend to exhausted cousins who just might share a wedding anniversary with you?”
“Could.” Shane pulled the door open and shouted inside, “Nick wants to stay too, love. Do we have space?”
A mellow, musical Southern voice floated out from the opening. “As long as he helps clean up after.”
Kade.
I followed Shane up the stairs and through into the kitchen.
Tam
Supper was lasagna and garlic bread, with ice cream sandwiches for dessert.
“Fewer dishes,” Shane said, and Nick nodded in an understanding that I didn’t have yet.
Once things were cleaned up, we moved outside to sit on the back deck while the kids played with the dog, eating our ice cream and kind of feeling our way through the awkwardness of the whole situation.
We didn't talk about me at first. A little, about work, and Wirechild, a little about Mom and how she was enjoying Ft. Lauderdale.
"But she's shocked by the bikinis, even there," I laughed.
Shane laughed gently. “Yeah. I guess you can take the girl out of Oceanport, but you can’t take the Oceanport out of the girl.”
“No, I guess not.” My ice cream was starting to melt, but I didn’t feel like eating it. Actually, my stomach was starting to churn again, and I wondered if it was the baby or my anxiety over broaching the subject here, with Shane and Nick, who I’d known most of my life, and Kade, who’d I’d only known because I’d wanted to help out an omega who’d been screwed over by Hollywood.
Nick reached for the ice cream in my hand just as it started to drip. “Not hungry?” he asked.
“No,” I said, grateful for the excuse. “The food was good, just more than I’m used to.” I let him take the ice cream and watched in amazement as he crammed the thing into his mouth.
