Those Three Little Words

“Wow, that’s, uh . . . that’s a dress,” Eli says as he moves his hand over his mouth, surveying me.

“If I ever learned anything from Rachel Green, it’s that I have to wear things that I won’t be able to wear when my pregnant belly gets too big.” I smooth my hands down my skintight black dress. Yes, it might be too much for dinner with my parents, but when I slipped out of the bathtub, I was feeling really sexy, and I wanted to keep that feeling. So I slipped on this little number.

“Well, you look, uh . . . really good,” he says, his voice breaking.

I smile and squeeze his forearm. “Thank you.”

While in the bathtub, I relaxed, took care of business—if you know what I mean . . . with the showerhead—and then spent a very long time lotioning my body so I smelled like heaven.

His eyes are still scanning me when he asks, “Is there anything I need to know about your parents?”

“You’ve met them before. No need to be nervous.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t meet them under these circumstances.”

I adjust the straps of my dress and grumble, “These boobs of mine are making things difficult. I think they get bigger by the minute.”

Eli clears his throat just as there’s a knock on the door. “Do you want me to get that?”

“No, I got it,” I say while shifting my boobs one last time. I give Eli a quick smile and then open the door to reveal my parents. My mom has chosen one of her many floral vest-turtleneck combos, while Dad is wearing the classic Agitators polo that Pacey gave him one year for Christmas. He now has four and rotates through them whenever he’s in town.

“Oh my, look at you,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug. “You look fantastic.”

“I feel fantastic,” I say, speaking the truth. The nausea has disappeared for the first time in a while, and I actually feel like I’m glowing. I know people say that about pregnant women, but I actually feel that now.

Dad steps up to Eli and holds his hand out. “Eli, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, Mr. Lawes,” Eli says, his voice sounding nervous.

“Joseph is fine.”

Mom then pulls Eli into a hug and says, “Ooo, I forgot how tall you are. And before you call me Mrs. Lawes, Tina will do.”

He chuckles. “Good to see you, Tina.”

When Mom pulls away, she sniffs the air and says, “Did someone cook?”

“I did.” Eli raises his hand and then sticks it back in the pocket of his jeans. “Hope you like lasagna.”

Dad pats his stomach just like a dad would and says, “Always room for lasagna.”

“Good, I made a large pan of it.”

Dad claps Eli on the back, and together, they walk into the kitchen while Mom hangs back with me.

Whispering, she says, “He made dinner? That’s impressive.”

Quietly, I say, “He wanted to show you guys he’s as he said, more than a talented hockey player with a credit card.”

“He’s so adorable.” Mom watches as Dad talks to him about the series. Always hockey on his brain. “And my God, honey, is he handsome.” Tell me about it. “Are you sure you two are just friends?”

“Positive,” I say just as Eli looks up and our eyes meet. He smirks at me and then goes back to cutting up the garlic bread in the kitchen.

“Are you sure? Because that look he just gave you doesn’t really say friends.”

“Please, Mom, not you too. Blakely won’t let up about this nonsense either.”

“Well, forgive us if we see something you might not see.”

“You’re coming up with things in your head.”

“Mm-hmm, so this dress you’re wearing has nothing to do with him?” She looks me up and down.

“Can’t I wear a nice dress?”

“Penny dear, you know I love you, but the dress you’re wearing isn’t necessarily something you’d wear while having an intimate dinner with your parents. That’s more of an intimate one-on-one dress, if you know what I mean.”

“Mom, fashion advice from you, the turtleneck queen, won’t necessarily be on point.”

She chuckles and takes my hand. “So you’re telling me those second trimester hormones haven’t kicked in?”

I gulp.

“I, uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She just smiles. “Okay, honey.”

And then we walk toward the dining room, where Eli is setting down the breadbasket, and Dad is bringing over the salad.

Like the gracious host he is, Eli asks everyone to take a seat before pulling out my chair and helping me take a seat. My mom eyes me suspiciously, but I just ignore her. It doesn’t help that Eli drags his hand over my shoulder before walking away. Doesn’t help at all.

He takes the next few minutes to retrieve drinks for everyone, rejecting all help and telling us to just relax. He moves around my kitchen effortlessly, serving everyone lasagna with poise and ease, and he waits until everyone has taken a mouthful of their dinner before he starts his own.

“Wow, this lasagna is incredible,” Mom says. “I might have to steal the recipe from you, Eli.”

Eli winks, and my ovaries flutter. “I’ll be sure to write it down before you leave.”

“Is this beef?” Dad asks, jabbing at the meat with his fork.

“Yes, sir.”

“Delicious,” he says before taking a forkful into his mouth.

“And he didn’t burn the garlic bread. He’s a keeper,” Mom says while picking up a piece of bread.

Chuckling, Eli asks, “How long are you both in town for?”

“We leave after tomorrow night’s game,” Dad answers. “We can only catch one game. Unfortunately, I have a knee replacement surgery in a few days I have to prepare for.”

“Oh wow. That seems pretty serious? Old injury?” Eli asks.

“I used to play some hockey back in my day, and I took a stick to the back of the knee during an exhibition game. I have post-traumatic arthritis as a result, and the operation should provide more mobility and less pain. So we’re taking care of that.”

“Pacey mentioned you used to play.”

“Yes, that was back when we didn’t have all the protective gear you have now. We were real men on the ice.”

Mom guffaws. “More like real idiots.”

Eli and I both chuckle at the same time, which of course causes us to glance at each other, and the warmth I see in Eli’s eyes puts a smile on my face.

“What about you two?” Mom asks, butting into something she shouldn’t. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when the baby gets here?”

“Not really,” I answer. “Still taking this all day by day. Because of the hockey season schedule, Eli hasn’t been able to go to a doctor’s appointment. Granted, I’ve really only had a few, but it’s all still new.”

“Do you have any ultrasound pictures?” Mom asks.

I wince. “I did.”

“You did?” Eli asks, looking surprised.

“Yes, but, uh . . .” I take a deep breath. “God, this is humiliating. I was at the park, looking at the pictures while eating a pretzel, and mind you, I hadn’t really had anything to eat all day because of nausea, and the pretzel was really hitting the spot. A gust of wind hit me, and the picture blew out of my hand and into the bay.”

“What?” Eli chuckles. “You never told me that.”

“Well, for one, it’s embarrassing. How great of a mom will I be if I can’t even keep pictures safe? And two, I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I didn’t mention it.”

Eli turns to me and places his hand on mine, his large palm covering my hand completely. “Penny, you’re going to be an amazing mom.” My mom audibly sighs. “And if you think about it, you kept the pretzel safe, which is most important, because of nutrients for the baby.”

“Wow,” Dad says. “Way to spin that, son. Well done.”

Eli keeps his eyes on me and says, “I mean it. You’re going to be amazing.”

Okay . . . well, slap me in the ass because I believe heart eyes are beaming out of me, right in front of my parents, over a plate of lasagna. My body and my mind are spewing all the love and affection for the man sitting right next to me. If it wasn’t for my parents sitting across from us, my hand would currently be down his pants, ready and willing to show him how incredibly grateful I am for him.

ELI SETS a bowl of ice cream in front of me, fudge and cherry chunks included.

Is he trying to make me weak in the knees? Because he’s doing a really good job at it.

“I know it isn’t super fancy,” he says, “but Penny has been craving ice cream, so I figured I can’t go wrong with this.”

“Very thoughtful,” Mom says while picking up her spoon. “When I was pregnant with both kids, I craved Ruffles dipped in a milkshake. Joseph dry-heaved every time he watched me devour a bag with a large milkshake.”

“It was a sight to behold,” Dad says. “I’d turn away for one second, and when I turned back, she’d have milkshake lining her lips and chip crumbs clinging to her milky mustache.” He shivers. “Never been more attractive.”

Mom playfully nudges him. “At least I had an excuse. I was pregnant. What’s your excuse for getting cheese stuck in your beard every time we have French onion soup?”

“Poor manners,” Dad says, causing Eli to laugh out loud. “Laugh now, son, just wait until you’re older and have lost all self-respect. There will be cheese in your beard as well.”

“Can’t wait.” Eli grins.

“Do you plan on settling down at some point?” Dad asks, and just like that, the tension in the room skyrockets.

“Dad,” I say, leaning forward. “I told you guys, we’re just friends.”

“I understand that, but a father needs to have his concerns, and isn’t that what tonight is about? Airing those?”

“It is,” Eli says with a nod.

“Then I’d like to know, seeing as though you have a reputation, is there any immediate thoughts on what your personal life will look like now that you’ll have a child?”

Eli pats his mouth with a napkin and then says, “I understand the concern. I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you hear is a lie because it’s not. I had a reputation, but that’s slowly dwindled since I’ve been with your daughter. Right now, my main focus is helping her and making sure the baby has a safe environment to grow up in. I had a bit of a mixed-up childhood. There were some great times and some really tough ones. I’m not sure Penny has mentioned this to you, but my dad wasn’t around, and my mom passed away when I was twelve. There were times in my life where I felt truly loved and times where I have never felt more alone.” The honesty in his voice, the shakiness as he tells the truth, I can’t help it. I reach out and take his hand, and to my shock, he squeezes hard on our connection and doesn’t let go. “I want to make sure this baby never feels that way. No matter what’s in store for us in the future, my top priority is to always make sure the baby feels safe and loved.”

Dad nods in approval. “Very admirable, son.”

Mom, of course, dabs at her eyes. “I had no idea, Eli. That must have been so hard, growing up without parents to lean on.”

“It taught me some valuable lessons, like hard work and goal-setting. I know I probably wouldn’t be here today unless I learned resilience at such a young age.”

“And your plans are to always support Penny, no matter where the future might take you?” Dad asks.

“Correct,” Eli answers. “I’ve actually spoken to my therapist about our situation, and I know in order to raise a child in a healthy environment, my relationship with Penny has to come first. It’s why I’m here now, to show her that she does matter to me, that I care about her well-being, and that no matter what, I’ll be here for her. I want there to be an unbreakable trust between us, a bond that we can carry on as we co-parent.”

Dad nods as Mom continues to look between us, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Eli and me and our connected hands resting on the table. I know what she’s thinking. I don’t have to be inside her head to understand because it’s written all over her face. She thinks there’s more between us.

Ha, if only that were the truth.

“I appreciate your honesty,” Dad says. “And since we’re being honest with each other, I’ll say, I was quite surprised to hear Penny was pregnant, for obvious reasons, but I was wary when I found out it was with you.”

“Dad,” I say out of embarrassment.

Eli squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. Your dad is just telling us how he feels. And given my reputation, I don’t blame him.”

“But I’m glad we had this dinner,” Dad continues, “because I can see that you really have made all the right choices, Eli, the kind of choices that puts a father’s mind at ease. Now, do I wish this was all coming about under different circumstances, just to ensure that Penny’s life will be easier? Of course, but I do believe you’re making the most of the situation, and I truly appreciate that.”

“Thank you,” Eli says. “And I promise you, Joseph, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll make sure Penny and the baby are the priority.”

Dad gives him a curt nod before he dips his spoon into his ice cream bowl.

“Well.” Mom claps her hands together. “Does this mean we’ll get to see you for the holidays? I sure hope so. We always say in the Lawes household, the more, the merrier.”

“If I’m welcome, I’ll be there.”

Mom smiles sincerely. “Eli, you are the father of our grandchild, our first grandchild. You will always be welcome.”

“That means a lot to me,” Eli says, and then he digs into his ice cream right before looking over at me and smiling. The boyish charm in his eyes, paired with the gratefulness in his grin, all hits me like a Mack truck to the chest, knocking away my breath.

I press my hand to my stomach and say, “I, uh, I think I’m pretty full. I’ll get started on the dishes.”

I stand from my chair, and so does Eli, still holding my hand. “You okay?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm,” I answer. “Good. Enjoy. Tell my dad about your fight with Gasper. I’m sure he’d enjoy that.”

“Oh yes, I tried to sneak details from Pacey, but he was close-lipped. Tell me, did you get him good?”

Eli chuckles, and as he sits back down—after one more thoughtful squeeze to my hand—I bring my bowl to the kitchen as Mom follows me. I stand at the sink, staring at my dad animatedly talking to Eli as Mom stands right next to me.

“Honey, I can see it all over your face. You like him.”

“I do,” I say quietly and then turn away. “But he doesn’t like me like that.”

“I beg to differ. There’s more than friendship between the two of you, and I think you need to figure out just exactly what that is.”

“Mom—”

“Penny, look at me.” I turn toward her, and she grips my chin. “There is something there. Despite what you might have said to each other, there is more, and you would be doing your baby a disservice if you don’t figure out what it is.” When tears start to well in my eyes, she softly says, “I’ve never seen someone look at you so intently, the way he looks at you. He speaks so honestly, so sincerely, about and to you. Reminds me of how Pacey looks at Winnie, if I’m honest. Give Eli a chance, give you a chance, and at least see if anything is there.”

I smooth my lips together and glance away.

“You won’t regret it.”

Just then, Dad and Eli erupt in laughter, and when I look over my shoulder at them, Eli has the largest grin on his face, a smile so wide that it stretches all the way to his eyes.

What would it be like if I gave us a chance? If I told him how I felt, how I’ve been feeling?

What’s the worst that could happen?

He could reject me. That’s the worst that could happen.

But what would happen if he said he felt the same way . . .

That’s the question that’s burning a hole in my twisted-up stomach.

What if he feels the same way . . .

ELI CLICKS the door shut and locks up before turning to me. Cutely, he pulls on the back of his neck and says, “I think they like me.”

I chuckle and nod. “Oh yeah, they’re pretty much in love. I’d say it was a successful dinner on your end.”

“I think so too. And hey, thanks for doing the dishes, you didn’t have to do that. I planned on doing them after your parents left.”

“It was good for you and my dad to have some talking time together. I didn’t mind.”

“I appreciate it. I really like your dad. I mean, I’ve known him through Pacey, but I’ve felt that made us more mates, than anything. It didn’t give us a father and son relationship. This might be stupid to say, but he kind of encompasses what I think a dad should be—tough but loving. And the way he called me son . . .” He smiles softly. “Hell, it felt good, Penny. It felt really good. Thank you for tonight.”

I never thought what it might be like for him, someone who doesn’t have parents or siblings, being included in a family dinner with a close-knit family. I didn’t notice when my dad called him son, but I guess that’s not something I’d generally take note of. But I can genuinely sense his appreciation, the way he feels accepted within my family, and it reminds me to thank my parents later for treating him like one of our own.

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you.”

“For what?” he asks, stepping closer and taking my hand in his. The subtle move makes my pitter-pattery heart skip a beat. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe there is something more between Eli and me. Maybe he does look at me a certain way and has just been hiding his feelings in the hope of keeping the peace between us.

And now that he takes another step closer, all I can think about is . . . should I attempt to see if she was right?

“I’m saying thank you for being so open and honest with my parents. I know they needed the reassurance that everything is going to be okay.”

“And do you believe everything will be okay?” he asks as his fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind my ear.

I wet my lips, and his eyes follow the movement as I slowly place my hand on his chest. I’m not sure what’s pulling us together, I’m not even sure if I’m dreaming this up, this connection we have, but I’m letting myself fall into it.

Between the absolutely sexy vulnerability he showed tonight and how his smile lit up the night, the whirlwind of emotions is messing with my heart and mind.

“With you by my side, yes, I do believe everything will be okay.”

“I’m not sure you know how much that means to me.”

“Well, it means a lot to me what you said tonight.”

He reaches up and touches my cheek. “I meant it all.” And then he says, “Should we watch some Ozark to end the night?”

“I’d like that.” And I’d like so much more. I slide my hand nervously up to his shoulder and then behind his head. His eyes remain fixed on mine as I quietly ask, “Can you, uh, unzip the back of my dress for me?”

I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs right before he nods. “Sure,” he answers in a gruff voice. And then his hand slides around me. He grabs my zipper and slowly pulls it down for me. His fingers drag along my skin as it’s exposed.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

When I should move away to go change, I don’t. I stay fixed on him. On his grateful eyes. On his strong jaw. On his enticing lips.

Just kiss him, Penny.

What could go wrong?

He’s holding you close. His hands are on your hips. This means something. This proximity.

Just dive in.

See if there’s more.

You won’t regret it. I know you won’t . . .

A blast of courage tears through me, and before I can stop myself, I wet my lips again and sift my fingers through his hair just as I stand on my toes and press my mouth to his.

I kiss him.

I kiss the mouth that I’ve missed for the past few months. The mouth that has sent me into a tailspin of unrequited desire. The same mouth that scoured my body and made me come harder and faster than any mouth ever has before.

I take what I’ve wanted.

Unapologetically.

And for a moment, his lips caress mine. He kisses back. Yes, he wants me. And his grip on me grows tighter . . . right before he pulls away, putting a good foot of distance between us.

Breathing heavy, hand digging into his hair, he shakes his head. “Fuck . . . I . . . I can’t, Penny.”

He can’t?

My heart plummets as I feebly ask, “You can’t what?”

He motions between us. “I can’t do this.”

The hope. The belief that there might be something more, the idea we could be a couple, all blows up in smoke. Poof. Gone. Right in my face.

I was proven wrong.

My mom and Blakely were wrong.

All this time, I thought he possibly thought more of me, but it was all in my head.

“I’m s-sorry,” I say, taking a step back. “I, uh, I just thought, well . . . never mind what I thought.” I take another step back.

“Penny—”

“No, it’s fine.” I smile at him, but I can feel just how fake it is. I take a step toward the hallway. “I got caught up in the moment. You know, hormones and all of that.” I nervously laugh and move backward again, but in my retreat, my heel snags in the entryway rug, and I tip backward, landing flat on my ass. Embarrassment washes over me as the top half of my dress falls off my shoulders.

“Jesus,” he says, quickly coming to my rescue and attempting to help me up, but I ignore his help and stand on my own. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I answer. My cheeks are flaming as I adjust the top of my dress. “I’m fine.” I then muster up a yawn. “I’m actually just going to go to bed. Pretty late night.”

“Penny, let’s talk about this.”

To my absolute horror, a tear slips down my cheek, and I quickly swipe it away. “I’d really rather not.”

“I don’t want you to be upset.”

Too late for that.

“I’m really fine. Okay. Just . . . just let me do my thing.”

His eyes are full of compassion. “I don’t want to mess anything up.”

Too late.

“It’s fine, Eli. Okay. I’m just going to change. Do what you want to do. You know if you want to go out with the boys or something.”

“You know I don’t want to do that.”

“Well then, just do something,” I say, moving down the hallway. “Good night.”

When I reach my bedroom, I shut the door behind me, then quickly grab my phone on the nightstand and take it into the closet, where I collapse to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more embarrassed in my life.

He doesn’t want me.

He doesn’t want me at all.

I call Blakely and bite my lower lip while I wait for her to pick up, tears continuously flowing down my cheeks.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” I say, my voice choked up.

“Penny, what’s wrong?”

“I . . . I kissed him, and he told me to stop.”

“What?” she says in outrage. “Wait, where are you?”

“In my closet, hiding from him.”

“Okay, I’m actually right around the corner. Want to meet me at the coffee shop?”

“Be there in five.”

BY THE TIME I ARRIVE, Blakely is sitting at a table with two drinks and a cookie. When she spots me, she immediately stands and pulls me into a hug.

I welcome her embrace and cry into her shoulder, thankful for her friendship.

When I hung up, I quickly changed out of my dress and into a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I threw my hair up in a bun and then took off. Told Eli on my way out that I’d be back. He’s texted me five times since I left. I haven’t answered them.

When Blakely releases me, we both take a seat, and she hands me a drink. “Chai latte.”

“Thank you.” I grip the warm drink between both of my hands.

“So what the hell happened?”

Great question. Still trying to figure that all out.

“It was a good night.” I recount how the dinner went with my parents and everything my mom said, confirming exactly what Blakely said about Eli. “And I don’t know, we were holding hands. He wet his lips. I wet mine. I couldn’t think of a more proper time to kiss him, so I did. And then he pulled away and said he can’t.”

“He can’t?” Blakely asks with a raise of her brow. “Hold on. He can’t, or he doesn’t want to?”

“He can’t. Blakely, it was so humiliating. I put myself out there, and he turned me down. I really . . .” More tears. “I really thought he wanted me.”

“Wait, hold on.” She presses her hand to mine. “Penny, he said he can’t. Do you understand the difference between can’t and doesn’t want to?”

“It’s kind of hard to understand anything at this point,” I say.

“Let me ask you this, did he kiss you back?”

“No—” I pause and give it some thought. “Well, actually, yeah, I guess he did. There was a moment when he kissed me and gripped me tighter. We actually kissed deeper for a second, and then he pulled away.”

“So he did kiss you back, which means something is holding him back from moving forward with you.”

I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “Or maybe, he just wants to be friends like he’s said this entire time. Between you and my mom, I falsely believed that this guy actually wants me. He probably just wants some peace in reality.”

Blakely shakes her head. “No, something’s holding him back. From seeing how he dotes on you, how he had his hand up your shirt, and now to this kiss. He wants you, Penny. But there is a roadblock, and you just need to move it.”

I let out a large sigh. “I’m tired, Blakely. I’m a vulnerable mess right now. I don’t want to play a guessing game about what he’s possibly thinking. All I want is a man to want me, to comfort me, to hold me, and to want to have sex with me. Eli is not the man. He made that quite clear tonight.”

“Has he texted you since you bolted?”

“Yes.”

“Have you looked at them?”

“Been too afraid.”

She lifts her cup then says, “Read them to me.”

“They’re probably just stupid texts asking where I am.”

Pinning me with her stare, she repeats, “Read them to me.”

Too tired to fight with her, I pull out my phone and unlock it. I click on my messages and on his name. Clearing my throat, I say, “Penny, I’m so sorry. Can you come back so we can talk about this? Where are you? I’m worried. You fell, and I want to make sure you’re okay. I want to make sure we’re okay. Please text me back, Penny. I’m really fucking sorry.” I glance up at my friend and say, “See. He’s predictable.”

But to my surprise, Blakely is sporting an evil grin as she slowly nods her head. “This is perfect.”

“What’s perfect?”

“We have him right where we want him.”

“And where exactly is that? That’s the same sort of thing he always texts. Sorry to say it, but we need to face the facts. I put myself out there, and he rejected me. We need to move on and figure out how to mend this hole that’s burying deeper and deeper in my chest.”

“Sure, he rejected you, but not because he wanted to. There is something . . .” Her eyes widen. “Hold on a second, I have a thought.” She pulls her phone out and starts typing away.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting to the bottom of this.”

“What does that even mean? Are you texting him? I swear to God, Blakely—”

“Cool it. I’m not texting him.” When she’s finished typing, she says, “I have an inkling about why he stopped that kiss.”

“Oh, yeah?” I cross one leg over the other. “And what exactly is that inkling? You’ve been sooo intuitive thus far.”

“It’s obvious that he wants you. I think we all established that.” Still delusional, okay, good to know. “Clearly, he kissed you back and wanted more by the way he gripped you.”

“He could have been falling backward, possibly off-balance from my unwelcomed mouth to mouth. That’s why he gripped me tighter.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie, so cut that out. And from his panic texts, he obviously wants to patch things up with you. We just need to get to the root of all of this.” Her phone chimes with a text message, and she holds her finger up to me. “Hold, please.”

She reads her text and smiles.

“What is it?”

“Bingo,” she says, turning the phone toward me.

Winnie: Yeah, Pacey threatened him not to go near Penny again.

“What?” I seethe, grabbing the phone from Blakely and looking at it closely.

“Just what I thought. All the signs were there. We just had to figure out what was stopping him, and it’s Pacey.”

Humiliation is quickly replaced by rage.

“Where the hell does he get off saying that to Eli?” I ask.

“Well, he’s always said that, but I’m pretty sure he reaffirmed it with Eli once you told him you were pregnant.”

I set the phone on the table. “So what you’re telling me is that my needs aren’t being met because of my brother?”

“Yup.” Blakely smugly breaks off a piece of the cookie that’s on the table. “And now that we know the issue, we set out to break Eli.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It’s time you get what you want, and that means you drive that man nuts. He wants you. Therefore, make him wish he had you.”

“You mean . . . flirt with him?”

“No, not just flirt, Penny. You need to be comfortable in your own skin, if you know what I mean.”

A light bulb goes off in my head. “Oh . . . I do know what you mean.”

She chuckles. “Show him what he’s missing out on. Accidentally touch him when he’s least expecting it. Have your hand graze him at night. Give him a freaking show.”

The embarrassment I was feeling only moments ago quickly washes away as I think about exactly all the things I could do.

Blakely is right—a scary thing to say. In that small moment, I felt the same level of need from him as I felt on the night of his birthday. The same . . . passion. Desire. If only fleeting. Is Blakely right? Does Eli just need a little—passive-aggressive—nudge?

“This could be fun,” I say.

“Oh, please . . . please make it fun.” She chuckles over her drink as I reach for a piece of the cookie.

Oh, yes, I’ll be making this fun for sure.