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Aslan glanced at the screen, a soft smile teasing his lips. “Should I get jealous of how often you guys talk?”
“I mainly talk about you, so no.” I kissed his lips, schooled my aching needs, and accepted the call. Leaning my phone against the saltshaker, I blew Aslan another kiss as he went to the sun-faded grey couch and flopped down.
I returned to chopping capsicum. “Honey. Hi!”
“Why is Teddy messaging me demanding to know where my loyalties lie?” She rested her chin on her hands, leaning into the camera with a wrinkled nose.
I laughed at her attempt to be serious, grinning as Billy appeared on the screen and kissed Honey on the top of her head.
“You again?” He rolled his eyes. “I swear there are three people in my relationship.”
“Try four,” Honey said. “Me, Neri, you, and Aslan.”
“Isn’t it more like six, though?” I chuckled. “Can’t forget Teddy and Eddie.”
“Are you riling him up again, Nee? He said that I like you more than him, and now he’s packed a sad.”
“He knows I love him just as much.”
Honey grinned. “Silly boy gives his heart away to everyone and then expects to hoard everyone’s heart in return.”
“He can have a tiny piece of mine on loan.” I looked up, catching Aslan’s endless stare. “Aslan owns all of it. Always has. Always will.”
“Don’t start.” Billy groaned. “I can’t deal with you two.” He rolled his eyes again. “I feel like I know more about your relationship than I should with how Honey prattles on about you guys.”
“Same here!” Aslan shouted from the couch. “Hi, Billy!”
“Hi, mate.” Billy held up his hand, his plaid shirt stained on the cuffs from working. Picking up my phone, I shoved the screen toward the living room, letting the boys see each other.
Aslan toasted Honey’s boyfriend with his beer.
I didn’t know how it’d happened, but we’d gotten into the habit of having drinks together over FaceTime. Honey and Billy had come to visit us a few months ago, sleeping on the air mattress in the second bedroom-turned-lab that Aslan had so wonderfully made for me, and Honey and I had been beside ourselves that our significant others got along so well.
For the first time in his life, Aslan had a male friend who wasn’t old enough to be his father. We’d spent most of their visit in bars that didn’t ask for ID, eating fried foods and sharing jugs of slightly flat beer, chatting about everything and anything.
The ease between Honey and me was unexplainable.
I’d loved Zara.
I still did, even though I flatly refused to rekindle our friendship.
But Honey was different.
She seemed special.
Just like Aslan was special.
“How was work?” Aslan asked, sitting taller and shifting on the couch to face my phone.
“Yeah, okay. Keep thinking the commissions will dry up from selling expensive tractors, diggers, and farm equipment with the state of the world right now, but nope. Farmers are still spending big bucks. Gotta feed the masses somehow, I guess.”
“That’s good.” Aslan smiled, taking a drink. “Gets you one step closer to your own farm.”
“That it does, mate. Can’t wait for that day.” Billy smacked a kiss on Honey’s head. “Can’t wait to knock this one up and have her making me little worker bees. She can be barefoot and pregnant, and I’ll work the land. Don’t care that I’m not supposed to say that with all this political correctness bullshit. Honey wants kids, and I want to provide. We’ll be in our version of heaven.”
Aslan’s coal-dark gaze shot to mine.
His intense look fisted my heart, and I didn’t understand it. Was he envisioning our future? One where I was barefoot and pregnant on a boat somewhere, or perhaps living under the sea?
With a swallow that flexed the tendons in his neck, Aslan cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.
Was he thinking of all the things that could go wrong? Fearing that a typical dream for others might not happen for us?
If I did have his child, what name did I put under ‘father’ on the birth certificate?
Could his be listed, or would that put him at risk?
You’re nineteen.
By the time you’re both ready for children, he’ll be legal, and everything will be fine.
An awkward silence fell; my pulse skittered. “Anyway...” I turned my phone back to face me, resting it against the saltshaker again. “I need to finish cooking, so you’ll just have to watch me while we chat. I want my dessert and can’t get it unless I feed my man.”
“Is dessert code for cock by any chance?” Honey giggled.
“Oh, Jesus, and this is where I leave.” Billy backed away, waving at me. “Bye, Neri. Bye, Aslan!”
He vanished from the shot, and I slipped into a happy evening of cooking, talking to my best friend, and stealing stares at my delicious sexy man as he put his glasses on, pulled up a math problem on a second-hand tablet we’d bought together, and settled into the numbers he loved so much.
