Her phone rang again, and she was tempted to answer if only to stop the constant calls. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Drake stroll into the kitchen and slide a box onto the countertop. She didn’t have to look inside to know what it was. The box was from her favorite bakery. Distracted, she almost didn’t see the hands reaching for her plate of lasagna.
Love smacked the back of one. “Don’t you dare. Get your own piece.”
“Damn. Okay.”
“I knew I was asking for it when I gave you a key. You’re always letting yourself in and helping yourself to my food. Maybe you should leave a twenty on the counter for groceries.”
“Ha. You’re funny.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slapped a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “You know I don’t eat homemade meals unless you cook for me.”
Love ignored the cash and the man in front of her, and finished her glass of wine. She burped. “Get that dirty money off my counter.” She cut another piece and put it in the microwave.
Once again, her phone chimed. “Is that your mom?” Drake asked.
“Why?”
“She called me and asked where you were and why you weren’t answering her calls.”
Great. “Did you tell her I was asleep?”
“I did.”
She pulled his lasagna out of the microwave when it was done and set it in front him. He’d refilled her glass of wine and poured one for himself. They settled in for a quiet meal.
“So, I called the chapel today,” Drake told her. “Everything is legit.”
Love knew that. Her dreams proved that much. They’d gotten married in a cheesy, gold trimmed chapel by a minister in an Elvis costume for heaven’s sake. It was too odd to not be true.
After a few minutes, Love said, “Did you know you’re the third man I’ve had sex with?” Drake choked on his food, covering his mouth with his napkin. She waited until he finished chewing before she spoke again. “I realized that we’ve never been the type of friends to talk about sex—especially my sex life.”
“Maybe it’s because sex should be kept between the two people having it?”
She tilted her head, assessing him. Drake was her best friend for a reason. Sure, he was loud, annoying, and he could be a jerk some days. But he was sincere, sweet and loyal every day. She smirked. “Still, we’ve shared so much with each other and it’s never come up. Weird, huh?”
For some reason, she couldn’t stop staring at him, letting her eyes wander over the clean lines of his face. He was focused on everything but her, yet she found herself entranced by the mere strength of him—his strong hands, the tiny scar under his right eyebrow, the way his dark rinse jeans hugged his thighs, the tattoo on his arm that poked out from beneath his short-sleeved shirt. He was a beautiful man. She’d never really appreciated it before, but it seemed to be all she could think of in that moment.
“You’re staring,” he muttered, pushing his food around his plate.
“Sorry.” She finished her second glass of wine and moved to the sink. As she rinsed the dishes, she heard him stand up and walk over to her. Pausing momentarily to breathe, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he leaned his hip against the sink.
“Love, I’m sorry.”
She swallowed. “Why?”
“I can’t help but feel like I took advantage of you that night.”
“Is that what’s been bothering you?”
He nodded, crossing his arms over his muscular chest.
“We were both drunk, Drake. It’s not an excuse, though, because we both know better. I make it a point to tell the women I see every day to watch their alcohol intake. But things happen. If I had to get drunk and throw my inhibitions out the window, I’m glad it was with you.” Their gazes met. After swallowing hard once again, she said, “I mean, it’s good that I had sex with you and not some random guy in a bar.” Shut up, Love. Except she couldn’t stop talking. “I’m just saying…well, I trust you more than anybody.” Just stop talking. “And it wasn’t like it was bad sex. It was good.”
He picked up her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. “It was,” he agreed, his voice low and husky. His thumb traced the length of hers, and her nerves stirred. “But don’t you wonder why we chose that night to…”
“Have sex?”
He nodded. “We’ve been friends for almost thirty years. It’s not like we haven’t been drunk together before. Why this trip? Why now?”
“Does it have to mean something deep?”