I look over at Drew, letting my eyes land squarely on him for the first time today. His brown hair is tousled and styled, and his hunter green t-shirt makes his blue eyes look startlingly sharp. His outstretched arm resting on the top of the steering wheel tenses. Veins roll.
“No.”
Okay, got i
t. One-syllable answer means Shut it, Jessie.
I bite the inside corner of my cheek and look out the window. “You probably should.” My words feel radioactive. Instinctively, I know I don’t need to be pushing this…but I can’t help it. I have to. I feel the need to push every single one of Drew’s buttons. I can handle fighting with Drew—I can’t handle silence from him anymore.
I glance out of the corner of my eye and see his hand wrap tighter around the wheel. We are quiet for five minutes, and just as I’m thinking he’s closed the conversation for good and we will spend the rest of our days as silent monks, Drew’s voice jumps out at me.
“I’ve got it!”
I squeal and drop the package of peanut M&Ms I was holding. They scatter everywhere, and it looks like a candy factory vomited all over his Jeep. “Drew!” I whack him on the arm.
He’s not remorseful in the least. One of the M&Ms landed in his lap, so he picks it up and pops it in his mouth with a self-satisfied grin. “Sorry. I’ve got my story ready.”
“What story?” I ask, sitting back to fold my arms and pout in my seat.
“The story I’m going to tell everyone to explain what happened to you.”
I don’t quite like the grin on his face right now. “That’s why you’ve been silent over there?”
“I needed some time to come up with something good.” He clears his throat like he’s preparing an important monologue. “It started so well. Our love was strong, and we had a whirlwind romance. Jessie, in particular, couldn’t keep her hands off me. I mean seriously, her desire for me was just insatiable. Every single night she would beg me, ‘Drew, please—”
“Okay, I think you’ve made your point, Casanova. Move on.”
He grins at the road before letting it morph into an expression of pure agony. “And then one morning on a weekend trip to Dr. Green’s lake house, I walk in on Jessie FaceTiming a man in the nude!” He gasps and covers his mouth like one of the Golden Girls. “As it turns out, Jessie had been having a secret fling on the side, and the baby is not mine, but HIS—even worse, Jessie knew it all along but just wanted a doctor’s salary to support her.” Drew shakes his head lightly, like his imaginary grief is too much to bear. “It was a heartbreaking tale. But luckily, the Greens were there to comfort me while I sent Jessie packing in an Uber.”
Drew says all of this in a way that lets me think he’s truly planning on this. I can see it now, a cunning smile spreading across his face before he runs out of our room into the kitchen and relays an entire fake story to the Greens at my expense. My humiliation is on the horizon, and I’ll never be able to see another doctor in Nashville again because there will be a bounty out for my head after word spreads. My face will be printed at the top of their doctor newsletter (I can only assume they have one) with a giant red target over my face. I’ll never receive good healthcare again.
“You wouldn’t dare!” I say with decisive emphasis on each word.
He chuckles like a maniac. “Oh, I would. In fact, I will.”
I have limited options for attack, stuffed in the car like this, so I lick my finger and stick it in his ear.
Drew jolts toward his door with a disgusted groan and uses his shoulder to wipe his ear. “You did not just give me a wet willy?!”
“I DID! And when we park, I’ll give you a purple nurple too! You can’t say those horrible things about me! It makes me sound so heartless. Imagine if I pass any of the doctors in the grocery store after word spreads? They’ll open up their egg cartons and start pelting me.”
“Ah yes—doctors are known for public egg floggings.”
“Make up a different story.”
Drew’s eyebrow rises. “Make me.”
Smoke billows out of my ears as I narrow my eyes into dangerous slits. “I know things about you now, Dr. Stuck-up. I can blackmail you ALL DAY.”
He barks out a laugh. “Oh yeah? What dirt do you have on me?”
“When you fall asleep on the couch, you fart. Like a lot. Real stinky stuff.”
“I do not.” He doesn’t.
I hum and tap my chin in a quick obnoxious movement. “I don’t know. Who are people going to believe—the sleeping man, or the woman there to witness the rapid-fire flatulence? I bet Mia would be interested in hearing what she’s signing up for.”
Drew’s brows crunch together. “What does Mia have to do with any of this?”