Page 83 of Never Pucking Ending

I can’t help but laugh. “You did, but I really hate laundry. It’s my least favorite chore, next to vacuuming.”

She makes a face. “Why?”

“Vacuums are loud,” is all I say.

This time, it’s her who rolls her eyes. “You may be right,” she concedes. “Jen does like complaining about things. It’s just a shame. We thought you two would be cute together. And you’re both older.”

Meaning, we’re running out of time.

“Thanks for the reminder,” I mumble.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

I know she didn’t, but it doesn’t make me think it any less. My biological clock is like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. I’ll be thirty-five in no time. The fact ‘geriatric pregnancy’ has already entered the chat once isn’t lost on me.

“Well, I hope Dane and his ex-girlfriend can get their happy ending this time,” I tell her, meaning every word. “He’s a great guy.”

“Just not your guy,” she notes.

I shake my head.

He isn’t and she doesn’t need to know who is.

Before we can continue this less than stellar conversation, Jesse comes home from whatever workout he was doing. He’s coated in sweat, making his long-sleeve shirt stick to his body and his dark hair look even darker than normal.

He walks into the kitchen and smiles at the two of us, leaning down to peck Mom’s cheek before walking over and doing the same to me. It isn’t out of the ordinary for him to kiss us hello. He’s done it plenty of times. But I swear his lips feel a little warmer, press a little harder, and last on my skin a little longer.

What was probably only seconds feels like a lifetime when he pulls back and looks at my mother, but not before winking at me like he knows that kiss went straight to my heart. And…other places.

“Hi, Nora. How are you doing?” he asks her, setting his earbuds onto the counter.

Mom sighs heavily. “I’m better now that I’m not in that damn car. I don’t know how your father handles people driving like maniacs all the time. I swear, Jesse, I was flipped off by a man in a white collar. A priest.”

That even has me gaping. “There is no way.”

“It’s true,” she insists, pointing toward her neckline. “He was wearing all black and had the collar. I saw it with my own eyes.”

A priest flipped her off? Unlikely, but comical to picture. “Interesting,” is all I say. People that drive in cities are a different kind of beast, so it’s plausible.

“That doesn’t seem very Godly,” Jesse remarks, and I wonder if he doubts that happened as much as I do. He’ll never voice it, though.

I clap my hands. “It’s a good thing I’ll drive us everywhere while you’re here. And if a priest or a minister or whoever flips us off, you can do it right back.”

She scoffs as if I’m the one being ridiculous even when she says, “Maybe I could scope out potential men for you to date. Maybe a nice minister is who you need.”

I blink, ignoring the way Jesse stands a little taller beside me as he drinks the cold water he took from the fridge. “Aren’t ministers celibate?”

“Maybe he’s Protestant.”

Are we really having this conversation?

I wonder that to myself again when she adds, “And it isn’t like you’re having sex. That would require you to actually talk to men.”

Oh. My. God. “Mom!” I squeak.

She laughs at my reaction. “Oh, please. Since when are you bashful about talking about these things? Sex is natural. I have it. Frank has it. You two have had it.”

My defensive reply comes out of me before I can even stop myself. “What? No. No, we haven’t!”