The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,1

on, I’ll take you to her desk.”

Mindy takes us left into the next room, a sunlit, open space with large windows—not that it needs them, given there’s a massive chandelier. Posh as hell and the opposite of my taste. Long desks create a labyrinth of rows, each person’s workspace separated by Mac desktops, colorful supplies, bedazzled picture frames. Nobody looks up from his or her computer. Sadie’s dark hair pops against the white walls and gold-accented furniture. She stands, and Bell skips ahead to meet her, but Mindy walks me all the way to the desk.

“Thanks, Mindy,” Sadie says before turning to me. “Did you meet Mindy? She just started here.”

“Yes, I did.” I smile politely. Mindy’s a pretty girl with what I presume is good taste; I wouldn’t know, but this is a fashion and beauty PR firm. If I weren’t anxious about being apart from Bell this weekend, I might indulge in a little flirting. That’s the furthest thing from my mind right now, though. “Can you give us a minute, Mindy?”

“Oh.” She nods quickly. “Of course. It was nice to meet you.”

“Andrew,” Sadie scolds when we’re alone. “That was rude.”

“Was it?” I ask. “So about tonight—”

“She’s cute,” Sadie continues. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Bell has already taken over Sadie’s desk, organizing her office supplies into piles. I squint past the pyramid of ballpoint pens and mess of metallic binder clips as I shake my head. “Is that stapler made of gold?” I ask.

“It’s gold-plated,” Sadie says, as if gold and gold-plated are in two completely different realms. She glances at Bell and then moves closer to me. “What’re your plans this weekend?”

“Not sure yet.”

“You have two whole nights to yourself,” she points out.

“I’m aware.”

“It might not be a bad idea to . . . you know.”

I know where she’s going with this, and in my experience, it’s best if we change topics. Once Sadie gets going about the reasons I need to start dating again, I tend to tune her out pretty quickly. “What?” I ask. “Masturbate?”

“Ugh—gross.” She makes a face but undeterred, she nods in the direction Mindy just went. “Why don’t you go talk to Mindy? She’s single. I bet she’d be up for grabbing dinner tonight.”

I roll my eyes. Sadie assumes that because I don’t take women out, I don’t get laid. She forgets I’m a man, and that nothing, not even fatherhood, can take me out of the game for good. “Anyway,” I say. “About this weekend—”

“Don’t worry,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “We’ve got this. Nathan can’t wait. He already bought a bunch of crap for Bell to play with.”

“Why? It’s just a weekend.”

“I know. I told him.” She touches her stomach so lightly, I doubt she even realizes she’s doing it. “He says we’ll need toys anyway.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better than the last time we talked. Now I’m mostly dealing with heartburn.” She says it cheerfully, as if heartburn is something she’d been hoping to get.

“Have you felt the baby move yet?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe?” She makes a face. “Is it terrible that I don’t know?”

“Nah. It can be hard to detect when it’s your first one. You’ll know when the baby really gets active.”

At the word baby, Bell perks up, swiveling in Sadie’s office chair. “Can I touch?”

Sadie smiles. “You don’t have to ask.”

“At nineteen weeks, barely anything there,” I say. “Just looks like you have a small gut.”

Sadie’s smile fades into a scowl. “At least I have an excuse.”

“Nice try.” I pat my six-pack. “Hard as a rock, no matter what I eat.”

She blatantly ignores me, because she knows it’s true and her joke sucked.

Bell cradles her aunt’s stomach like it’s a bubble at risk of popping. “I think I can feel it,” Bell says.

“Aww.” Sadie smiles. “That’s just gas, honey.”

I rub the bridge of my nose as memories of my ex’s pregnancy hit me. Not just a magical time, but also a gastrointestinal one.

Sadie runs a hand through Bell’s dark hair. They look so much alike they could be mother and daughter. “You could’ve dropped her off at our place if you’d waited another hour,” Sadie says. “I’m about to leave for the day.”

“Bell’s obsessed with riding the subway.” I raise my palms. “Don’t ask me why—I think she saw it in a movie. I’ve done my best to instill in her what a rotten place this city is, but she seems to like it.” I lean in a little. “Just don’t mention that Brooklyn isn’t technically Manhattan. She’ll