Page 55 of One Moment Please
“And heavier than a brick shit house,” Miles adds, shaking his head. “Took me, Sam, and Dean to move that beast in here. You’re going to have to sell it with the house if you ever move.”
“Um…thanks for doing that,” I say.
There are rummage sale-looking end tables and lamps and knickknacks scattered everywhere. Is that a giant tiki bar out on the deck?
“I’d have been here to help had I known all this was happening.”
“It’s alright.” Sam strokes his beard, wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s a Saturday and we didn’t have anything better to do. Plus, Lynsey promised us baked goods.”
Lynsey’s eyes light, and she scurries past me, nearly knocking the floor lamp over on her way as she darts into the kitchen and returns with three foil-wrapped plates. “These are my grandma’s homemade brownie recipe. You’re going to love them.” She hands them each their own plate and clutches her hands in front of her like this is a completely normal day.
“Well, I suppose we can get out of your way,” Miles says, throwing his arm around Lynsey. “Still really happy for you, Lyns. Kate says she’ll be stopping by after she gets back from her parents’ house.”
Lynsey nods and gives Sam a quick hug goodbye. The two leave, and Dean lingers in the kitchen, helping himself to a beer out of the fridge that I most certainly didn’t put in there.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom really quick,” Lynsey says sweetly, her voice high and a little unnatural. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”
She disappears down the hallway and the guest bathroom door barely closes before Dean lowers the beer from his lips, and says, “So, I hear you got our Lyns a job.”
I frown at his choice of words. “I didn’t get her a job. She got herself a job.”
Dean’s brows lift curiously. “Because of a meeting you set up.”
My fists clench at my sides. “I made an appointment. That’s it. There was never, not once, any indication that a job offer was even on the table. I got that phone call because Lynsey impressed her. That’s it.”
“You got her a job, a place to live. You’re really a knight in shining armor—or scrubs I should say, since you’re a doctor and all.” He takes another drink. “Although what kind of doctor doesn’t know about successful forms of birth control?”
I move across the room and stand toe-to-toe with him. “Do you have a problem with me, Dean? Because I’m tired of your cocky smirk, and you acting like Lynsey belongs to you.”
“She belongs to me a hell of a lot more than she belongs to you.”
“How do you figure?”
“You’re just an accidental sperm donor at this point,” Dean states simply. “You’re not in a relationship, you guys aren’t even friends. And she’s not planning to fuck you, so basically, it’s only a matter of time before she grows tired of you.”
“The way she grew tired of you?” I ask, my voice menacing. “It didn’t take much convincing for her to ditch you for me. The difference here is that she has a piece of me inside her. And that will forever bind us.”
Dean narrows his eyes and sets his beer down. He steps toward me so we’re only inches apart. “Lynsey’s testing out this situation because she’s the kind of person who needs to know she’s given her all to something before she moves on. It’s one of the things I love about her. When she realizes your all isn’t good enough, she’ll move on, and I’ll be there for her when she does. Like always.”
He steps back, releasing me from his intense scrutiny and without another word, turns and walks out of my house. Too bad it won’t be for the last time.
“Do you guys want to find out the sex?” the ultrasound tech asks as I lay with my eighteen-week pregnant belly hanging out on the exam table.
“How have we not discussed this?” I ask.
Josh sits beside me in his blue scrubs, having popped over from his shift at the ER to be here for the anatomy scan.
“We’ve discussed a lot of other things.” Josh shoots me a pointed expression, and then turns his focus to the tech. “Lynsey loves her new job. Her favorite color is purple. She lives for tropical drinks. Nonalcoholic for now, of course.” The tech smiles like we’re some adorable couple, clearly having no clue that we’re not in a relationship, and Josh is being a total smart-ass right now. “She’s obsessed with making charcuterie boards and eating French silk pie but only the kind they make at the hospital cafeteria. And Oreos are basically a food group.”
I whack him in the arm which has kind of become my punching bag as of late. “I find it highly offensive that the majority of the things you just listed involve food.”
He presses his lips together. “You do talk about food a lot.”
“Only because you won’t respect the fact that charcuterie can serve as an entire meal!”
He rolls his eyes, and I clench my hands into frustrated fists. Living under the same roof, even though I have a separate bedroom and bathroom down the hallway from Josh’s room, has certainly been interesting. And I too have learned a great deal about the man whose baby I’m carrying.
For example, Josh has an extremely dry sense of humor. He says things that are meant to be taken in jest but he doesn’t smile while he says them, so people often completely miss the humor.
