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Gavin saunters into the kitchen as I’m checking my phone.
“Hey,” he says with a tired smile.
I accept his kiss on the cheek. “It’s getting pretty late. I should probably think about heading home.”
He frowns. “I thought you didn’t have class tomorrow.”
“I don’t. But you do.”
“So?” He kisses me sweetly, combing his fingers through my hair. “You should stay over.”
“You’re sure? I didn’t want to assume.”
He takes my phone and sets it on the table so he can hold both my hands. “Alexis, I’m not some guy you met at a frat party. I’m your boyfriend, and I want you here for as long as I can have you. Forever, if possible.”
Forever.I glance at our joined hands. Moving in with Gavin would be a dream come true, but doing so without my parents’ knowledge would require major subterfuge. Not only that, but the thought of not being able to openly celebrate something so monumental bothers me more than I expect it to.
Gavin seems to sense my discomfort, if not the underlying cause. He cups my cheek.
“Do me a favor, Alexis. Next time, assume.”
Chapter Nine
Alexis
My mom pulls a pan of baby quiches from the oven and slides it onto a rack to cool. “Are the crusts ready to be blind baked yet?”
“Almost.” I press a round of short-crust pastry into the bottom of a muffin cup and stifle a yawn.
“You should’ve hired a caterer for this,” Erica says, shaking her head. “It’s too big a job for one person.”
“I’m happy to cook for a crowd,” Mom says. “Besides, it’s not just me. I have Alexis. You shouldn’t even be back here. Go mingle with your guests.”
Most of the faculty from Brookstone’s anthropology and linguistics departments have gathered at my parents’ house for Erica and Lorenzo’s baby shower. Mom and I were up late last night decorating the house and prepping food, but that’s not why I’m fading in the middle of the afternoon.
I’m tired because I stayed up even later exchanging sexy photos with myboyfriend.
My lips slant into a smile. It’s been nearly three weeks since Gavin and I became official, and I still get the urge to pinch myself whenever I refer to him as my boyfriend, something I can rarely say out loud.
“I just came in to get some Tylenol.” Erica rubs her forehead, looking like a cupcake in her creamy chiffon wrap dress.
“Third cupboard from the left,” my mom says.
My sister frowns. “I know where the Tylenol is, Rachael. I used to live here.”
If only she could sweeten her personality to match the dress.
Erica gets what she needs from the cupboard and then waddles out of the kitchen. I take a fork to the bottoms of the pastry cups to stop them from puffing up in the oven.
“Is it just me,” I grumble, “or is she getting worse as she gets bigger?”
“She’s extra sensitive because Cynthia cancelled on her at the last minute, like I knew she would. I can’t imagine missing my only daughter’s baby shower. Come over here and tell me if this dip needs more salt.”
I wipe my hands on my apron and sidestep around the island to accept the spoonful of herbed cream-cheese Mom offers me.
“More garlic,” I say.
“You sure? Okay, but don’t let your father near it. Garlic makes him gassy.”
