I start to try and do damage control until I realize that I might have bigger issues.
“No. I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere. Not with Kayla, though. I mean, I’ve met her fiancé Tommy, and you two look nothing alike. How is Tommy, Kayla?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with glee.
God must be punishing me for taking birth control pills and keeping it from White. That’s all I can figure.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Gladys. I haven’t spoken to him in a few days,” I tell her, and I have to force myself not to wince as White’s hands bite into my stomach.
“You haven’t spoken to Tommy…” Gladys says, trailing off as she visibly seems to file away that juicy tidbit for later.
“She hasn’t, and won’t. Tommy and Kayla aren’t together anymore, Gladys,” White growls, and it is a growl—one that makes me quiver in all the appropriate female areas.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Gladys says, and if she could sound any more pleased with herself, her hand would be tired from patting herself on the back. “What’s your relationship with Kayla, exactly?” she asks.
Yeah, this is probably bad.
“Gladys, it’s been nice seeing you, but I think I need to go home and rest. I have work tomorrow,” I say, but I needn’t have bothered. White and Gladys are both ignoring me.
“Kayla is mine,” White says.
That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t explain or deny any of the juicy conclusions that Gladys is quickly inventorying in her mind.
“Yours?” she asks.
“Mine.”
“I’m his best friend,” I tell Gladys lamely, wishing the floor could swallow me up.
“Best friend?” Gladys asks.
“Among other even better things,” White says cryptically, keeping one hand on my waist and letting another rest on my shoulder, his fingers tangling in my hair as he kisses the top of my head.
If I didn’t want to kill him right now, I’d be a melted puddle at his feet, but with each passing moment, Gladys is making her own conclusions and the result of that could be epically bad for my work life.
“You’re that football star! The one who hurt his arm a while back!” she says, and I’m hoping I get lucky and she didn’t hear White’s reply.
“That’s me.” This time, White sighs when he answers.
My heart hurts for him. We haven’t talked about it, but I know he’s worried about ever playing again.
“I had no idea that our Kayla had such big connections. She does like to keep secrets,” Gladys says as if I’m not even here. “How amazing it must be to be claimed by someone so virile and exciting!”
Now I suddenly want to throat-punch her.
“He means that he’s my brother,” I say stupidly. I swear, since the moment White kissed me, I’m pretty sure my brain is not firing on all cylinders.
“Your brother!” Gladys cries, and before I can explain further, White interrupts me.
“Sorry, Gladys, this has been nice, but I need to get Kayla home and in bed,” he growls, and from the tone of his voice, I think he might be a little pissed at me.
“Oh, goodness.”
Hell, if I’m not right there with her. The image of White getting me in bed flashes in my brain and burns out any other thoughts or brain cells that I might use to get me out of this mess I seem to find myself in.
I’ve waved a goodbye and walked a good hundred feet back towards the food booths before my mouth becomes unfrozen and my tongue works enough to say anything.
“You realize what she’s thinking, right?”
“I’m not the one who told her we’re brother and sister.”
“Well, she was thinking that we were—”
“Sleeping together? Hate to break it to you, Buttercup, but she’d be right. Everyone will be thinking that soon and surprise—they’ll be right, too. Wasn’t that what getting the tests was all about?”
“Well yeah, but I mean, I work with her. She’s a loud mouth—a nosy loud mouth.”
“You don’t think the people you work with will realize you’re sleeping with me? Especially when you start showing?”
“Showing?”
“Women who get pregnant usually start to show that fact, Kayla.”
“Well yeah, but we don’t need to worry about that right now,” I tell him, and guilt tangles with a feeling that almost feels like disappointment curling in my gut. My hand goes there in reaction. “So, there’s no reason to think about it. Besides, I’d rather not be the topic of conversation at the school’s watercooler.”