Colby seems to clock this, because he gives her a nod I interpret as acceptance before he heads back inside. If he was hesitant at first about her showing up in my life again, he seems to be warming to the idea now. “Good night, Bree.”
We make it to her porch and she smiles up at me.
“You want me to tuck you in?” I ask, before I can think better of it.
She reads my face for much longer than the question warranted, chewing on her lip like she’s considering accepting me. “Not tonight.”
Once the door is closed and the deadbolt locked, I kick myself the entire walk back to my house.
Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.
Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll believe it.
20
BREE
I wokeup to a text from Nancy asking if I wanted to make breakfast together. I immediately agreed, thinking she meant French toast or waffles or something equally normal.
Nope. The woman brought over the ingredients to make eggs Benedict, intent on teaching me each step of the process, which she did with exactness and immense patience. I’m no chef. Everything from poaching the eggs to the time-intensive hollandaise took twice as long with me at the stove than it would have without. Or so I assume.
By the time we sit down at the table with four plates of food, though, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so proud. I can’t stop staring at the masterpiece that came from my work in the kitchen. Iproducedthis.
Nancy watches me with amusement, her blue eyes dancing. “I’ve called Benny, and the boys are on their way over.”
“They haven’t eaten?”
She adjusts her coral button-down, which sits open over a yellow floral shirt. Yes, her linen capris match her button-down to perfection. There’s no way they didn’t come in a set. “I might have warned the boys not to eat.”
“Diabolical.” Since they’re her grandsons, I can’t blame her. I’m not disappointed, either. Not by a longshot. Each time I get to see Benny, my pulse dials up. I yearn to close the distance. It feels as dangerous as it is exhilarating.
When he joked about coming in last night, I almost let him. It wasn’t entirely clear what he meant by that phrase…tuck me in? See me to bed because I was afraid of every shadow and he knew that, or something more? When we were sixteen, we had some epic make out sessions. The half-second his lips grazed mine in front of those cows the other day was enough to prove we haven’t lost that spark.
If we light a match, will we both go up in flames?
There’s a quick knock at the front door before it swings open. “We’re here,” Colby calls.
“Come in,” I say. I know it’s his house, but right now, it’s mine.
The men sit at the breakfast table and inhale. “Smells great,” Benny says. He looks at Nancy’s feet, admiring her pedicure in strappy sandals. “Nice nails, Grandma.”
“Thanks. Bree did them.” She practically preens, showing off her fingernails, too.
Benny looks good in board shorts and a stone blue T-shirt. His dark hair is wind-dried and sticking up in some places, which makes me assume he spent time surfing this morning. He’s a bit unkempt, and I like it.
“This is amazing,” Colby groans.
Nancy beams proudly. “Bree’s first time poaching eggsandmaking hollandaise sauce.”
“Nailed it,” Colby says around another bite.
Benny cuts a bite and nods. “It’s excellent. Well done, both of you.”
Their praise fills me with something warmer and firmer than the accolades I usually get about my music or modeling or any of the other entertainment-related work I do, and I don’t quiteknow why. I take a bite, making sure to get every layer on my fork, and they’re right. It’s good.
That is, of course, owing to Nancy’s prowess in the kitchen, but we all know that. It’s nice of anyone to offer me credit at all.
“How were the waves?” Nancy asks.