mind. Just a dumb joke.” Kayla let her hair fall forward over her face, masking her flushed cheeks. “I can think of a few movies. Your room or mine?”
“Yours,” he decided. “It smells better. Like flowery girl stuff instead of sweaty socks and old smokejumper gear.”
She laughed, tucking her hair behind an ear. “Your room doesn’t smell like any of those things, but that’s fine.” And convenient, since Tony would find it easier to flee if things got uncomfortable. “Where is this sub shop, anyway?”
“Just up here. They make amazing Reubens—just how you like them, with pastrami instead of corned beef. They make their own sauerkraut and their own Russian dressing, plus the bread is unreal.”
“That sounds amazing.” And a little sweet that he remembered her sandwich preferences. The last guy she’d dated—Ben—kept showing up with coconut macadamia nut ice cream, even though she’d told him over and over she was allergic to macadamia nuts.
But Tony remembered how she liked her sandwich, even though she was almost positive they’d only had Reubens together once. She reached for her seat belt as Tony eased them into a spot in front of the sandwich shop. “How about you walk Fireball, and I’ll go grab the sandwiches?” he offered.
“Deal.” Hopping out of the Jeep, she felt her phone vibrate in her purse. She pulled it to answer a call from her youngest sister as she clipped Fireball’s leash into place.
“Hey, Kristin.”
“Guess what!”
Her sister’s exuberance had Kayla thumbing down the volume on her phone to spare her eardrums. “What?”
“I’m pregnant!”
“Oh my God, congratulations!” Now Kayla was shouting, startling an elderly woman who was on her way in to the sandwich shop. She mouthed an apology, shifting the phone to her other ear as she led Fireball over to a patch of grass. “How far along?”
“Eight weeks, give or take,” she said. “We’re only telling immediate family right now.”
“I’m so happy for you, Kris.” She was; she really was.
And yet…
“This is the best news,” Kayla insisted, wiping away tears as Fireball lifted his leg on a dead shrub. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel amazing. No morning sickness like Kelly or Katie had, knock on wood.”
“I can’t wait to meet another little niece or nephew.” Kayla winced, knowing that “meeting” the other kids was all she’d ever really done. She hadn’t been so great at getting home to spend time with her family.
Selfish. You’re a selfish, selfish person.
Kayla swallowed back another wave of emotion as she headed toward a patch of grass that looked inviting for a dog.
“We’re thinking of naming him Michael, after Dad,” Kristin said. “If it’s a boy, I mean. Or even if it’s a girl, we could do a feminine spin on it. Michelle or Mikki.”
“Dad’ll love that.” Kayla rummaged in her purse for a dog doody bag, still scolding herself for thinking of…well, herself. “How about Mikala?”
“Oooh, we’ll add that to the list.” There was some muffled chatter, then another excited burst from her sister. “Oh! Guess who I saw yesterday?”
Kayla averted her gaze while Fireball did his thing. “Um…Mr. Baker from Brush Elementary?”
“Ack, no. You just made this awkward.”
“Why don’t you just tell me, and we can skip all the awkwardness?”
“Someone you slept with,” she said. “So definitely not your fifth-grade teacher.”
The former didn’t narrow things down all that much, which Kayla refused to feel ashamed about. She’d enjoyed a robust sex life, with plenty of lovers in her thirty-one years. Was Kristin really going to make her run through all of them in the parking lot of a sandwich shop?
She bent down to pick up after her pup. “I take it this is someone we both know?”
“Oh, yeah. Remember Rick? The one who cheated on you with Amy Plimpton?”
“Ugh. He’s still in town?”
“Just moved back. And get this—he’s a cop now.”
A flutter of awareness moved through her. “He always did have that whole ‘noble hero’ thing going for him.”
“Until he nailed Amy, you mean?”
“A flawed hero.” She tossed the baggie in a trash can and dug through her purse for hand sanitizer. “No one’s perfect.”
“True, but you’ve definitely picked some doozies.” Kristin laughed, warming up now. “Remember that guy in college, the Army reservist—Shane something?”
“Shane Samples.” Not a cheater but a serial commitment-phobe. He’d break up with her, then woo her back with flowery words and great sex. Another month would pass, and they’d do the whole thing again.
A sour ball formed in the pit of Kayla’s stomach. No wonder she wasn’t getting anywhere closer to marriage and kids,