Page 26 of I Do, or Dye Trying

“I did not,” I said after my fit of laughter. “It was diluted by your saliva.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Gabe said smugly, “but I know how much you liked it.”

“Keep thinking it,” I replied just as sassily.

“You always need to have the last word, don’t you?” Gabe asked.

“Do not,” I fired back.

“Do too,” he responded just as quickly. I saw the challenge in his eyes, and it nearly killed me not to take the bait. Instead, I blew him an air kiss and went back to assembling the pies.

“See!” he said.

“What? That was an air kiss, not a word!” I argued.

“It made a noise and was more than a cutesy gesture. It was just a sweeter way of flipping me off,” Gabe contested.

“You are out of your mind, Gabriel,” I said, but my mock anger wasn’t convincing when I couldn’t keep the smile off my face or humor from my voice. He was also right so I couldn’t protest too much.

“Mmmmmm hmmm,” he replied.

I would not take the bait. I would not take the bait. I would not…“You sure didn’t mind my mouth opened this morning when I wrapped it around your dick.”

Gabe laughed so hard that he had to step away from the stove. He reached for me, but I evaded him by stepping back until there was nowhere for me to go with the kitchen counter behind me. “Gotcha,” he said dramatically.

“Yeah, you do.” I smiled up into his face.

“Don’t ever change, Sunshine,” he said, mirroring words I’d spoken to him another time. There were no more words after that because the tender kiss that followed rendered me speechless.

I was so glad when Adrian, Sally Ann, and Adrianna arrived before everyone else so I could fuss over the little sleeping princess. I couldn’t resist taking off her little hat so I could see all the dark hair she’d inherited from her daddy. I was forced to give her up once Meredith and Willa arrived because they hadn’t met the little angel yet.

Gabe smiled crookedly when I interrogated the ladies to make sure they had washed their hands before I passed her over. I knew he was thinking about what a nitpicky dad I was going to be and he was right. My little Gabriels and Gabriellas wouldn’t be held with rough, germy hands.

Emory arrived with a peach cobbler that looked and smelled good enough to rival my apple pie. Gabe told me about the conversation he’d had with the man the night before, and I tried my best to hide the sadness I felt over his heartbreak. I refused to believe that happiness was out of Emory’s reach and his comment to Gabe about Jonathon Silver made me smile. Whether Emory knew it or not, he connected with Jonathon on a level beyond the physical one he’d envisioned, but that was something he’d have to come to terms with in his own way and on his time frame, not that of an annoyingly happy friend.

John, Deanna, and their three kids were the last to arrive. I was happy to meet the man that Gabe talked about so much. He was every bit of the jokester that Gabe said he was and their kids were too freaking cute for words. Buddy barked and bounced happily at having children to play with, and it was obvious he was good with them.

Deanna Dorchester was one of the sweetest persons I had ever met. She set her covered pie on the picnic table and threw her arms around my neck for a hug before she did the same with Gabe. “I’m so happy to meet you both. Thank you so much for inviting us to your home,” she said. You’d think it was an invite to the White House or something by how happy she seemed. “Where can I put my pie?” she asked. I could tell by the way she rolled her eyes that she wasn’t pleased with her husband.

See, I had puffed out my chest and strutted about like Foghorn Leghorn from my Saturday morning cartoons when Gabe entered me into the bake-off. Deanna looked mortified that John would do something like that to her. I felt a little shitty and a whole lot shallow when she followed me upstairs to put her pie in the kitchen.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I said once she set her carrier down. “We can tell the guys we refuse to play along with their silly games.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Deanna said. “Your pie is going to trounce mine and John will learn to never do this to me again. In a marriage, one spouse’s humiliation is also worn by the other.”

“How do you know that my pie is going to win?” I lifted the lid off her dessert carrier then said, “Oh.”

“Oh, is right,” she said then began laughing. “Only a serious baker would recognize a frozen pie that’s been passed off as homemade.”

“There’s nothing wrong with frozen pies,” I told Deanna. In fact, I’d been known to use them in a hurry.

She tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, I would agree in most cases, but I have a feeling your pie will humiliate mine.”

“My pie isn’tthatgreat,” I lied.

“Show it to me,” she demanded.

“Deanna, we’ve just met,” I said in mock horror. “I don’t show ‘it’ on the first date.”