Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
He perked up but stayed in the doorway. “What is it?”
“Rotisserie—”
“Yes,” my chicken-obsessed cousin replied.
I smirked. It was actually one of our favorite meals. Costco’s rotisserie chicken, plain white rice, and IKEA’s gravy.
“Oh man, now I want bestemors flaeskesteg,” he complained. “Nobody roasts pork like that woman, I swear.”
Legit. Our grandmother knew good food. We gained at least five pounds every time we visited Copenhagen. But since I couldn’t make her roasted pork, I went with chicken, and I made one giant serving every weekend for next week’s lunches. It was the one dish I could cook very well, partly because the gravy came from a packet, the chicken was done when I bought it, and the rice was the boil-in-bag type.
Impossible to fail.
After filling two plates, I set the first one in the microwave, and then I brought two sodas and utensils to the table. My kitchen was tiny, to use Macklin’s words, but I didn’t need a table larger than to seat two.
“Did you get my thank-you gift yet?” I asked. Speaking of Danish foods…
I hadn’t been able to buy Corey something in Florida, so I’d ordered some stuff from Amazon. Every now and then, we could find our favorite chocolate thins from Denmark on there. World Market had some random items too.
“Yes! It was there when I got here this morning.” He sat down and opened his Coke. “Totally worth getting bitten by one of your turtles.”
I winced. Niels was a biter, yeah. Although, bite was a strong word. He nipped at the hand feeding him lettuce.
Once the food was heated, I joined Corey at the table and braced myself for his questions. They were valid, so I couldn’t blame him. I usually never kept stuff from him.
“Aw, this is the perfect amount of sauce—when the rice swims in it,” he gushed.
I chuckled, having heard that before. We did love our sauce.
Corey and I had a lot in common. I didn’t have the same texture issues and food sensitivities that he did, but we tended to love the same things. Granted, his obsession with chicken was from another world, but I wasn’t too far behind.
We’d grown up hearing others’ assumptions on us being brothers. I was a year older, a little taller, and less boyish, but the rest was there. In Florida, Reese had immediately noticed how much I looked like Corey. So that had become my planned excuse in case Ty hadn’t stopped asking where he knew me from. I was gonna come clean about Corey being my cousin—and that maybe Ty recognized me because he’d once known Corey quite well. Maybe I simply reminded him of Corey?
My embarrassment at the whole ordeal in high school, how I’d reacted to my girlfriend’s dad, was always going to weigh heavier than my desire to tell the truth. For as shitty as I felt about deceiving Ty, I could think of nothing worse than being confronted by my past.
On the flip side—for Ty—I was never going to play with him again. My deceit had reached its expiration date. We’d had our week in the sun, and I was going to think back on it as the best of my life. But other than seeing him, fully dressed, for the Picture-Perfect Game in a couple weeks, he was out of my life again.
“Why do you look like someone just killed all your snakes?”
I frowned for a second, then tried to compose my face. Some had no verbal filter; I had no control over my facial expressions. And if that reflected even half of the sorrow I felt coursing through me, I was screwed.
So I went with deflection. “I’m just pissy that Nora showed zero interest in the fact that the green orchid bee has established a new home in Florida outside Broward County.”
Corey treated me to his deadpan expression. “Yeah, that’s riveting news. Moving on.”
I clenched my jaw.
Fucking fine. He insisted we were doing this now? So be it.
“Ask your questions,” I grumbled. “I’m heading to Fairfax after I’ve showered, so…” Chop-chop.
He watched me while he chewed way too slowly.
It made me impatient.
With my knee bouncing, I began eating faster, and the silence around us was getting to me. Silence was rarely silent. There was always something. The sound of chewing. The seconds ticking by on the clock on the wall. The upstairs neighbor flushing the toilet. The low whirr of the elevator running.
The creak of Corey’s chair as he shifted in his seat…
Deep breaths.
Eat, shower, focus on work.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re dating Macklin?” he asked.
I took a breath. I’d rehearsed this answer, so I knew what to say. It was the honest truth, too. “We were never supposed to go that far,” I started out by saying. “We hooked up a couple times at his place after going to a club, and that became a whole thing with breakfast and lunch. So we sort of settled on a fuck-buddy relationship, and we wanted to keep it on the DL because neither of us could offer much. We didn’t want feelings to get involved, and we had no interest in serious commitment.” I paused as I scraped up more rice and sauce on my fork. Not the easiest task. “The main reason I didn’t tell you at that point is because of your, uh, relentless attempts at getting me to switch communities. And if you’d found out I was seeing Macklin, a guy from your community, you would’ve cranked that up to a whole new level. Don’t try to deny it.”