“Totally disagree. I love those brownies he makes, but it’s always the grits that get me,” Everly chimes in. I look over at G, remembering something I said to her years ago about “telling her something good.”
“You really should have been a chef. You missed your calling, man,” Law says over a bite of pizza.
They say this to me at least once a month, but I never thought of cooking or baking in that way. It’s always been an anchor for me. A way to focus on something and get out of my head. To play with flavors, try new ways to cook things that are familiar, and share it with the people I care about most.
Michael pulls me out of my thoughts when he asks, “Where’d you disappear to, by the way? I thought you were going to talk to Mac about the gym space. When I mentioned it, he had no idea what I was talking about.”
He takes out two heaping scoops of salad, and then starts separating the vegetables.
“You going to eat those olives?” I ask.
“You know I’m not. They’re all yours,” he says. His eyes search mine for a response to his question.
“You pitch him the idea?” I ask.
“Well, yeah. I couldn’t just stand there and not get into it after I asked.”
“And?” I say back to him.
Michael shifts uncomfortably, straightens out his cutlery so that each side has the balanced number of items. He pushes his glass forward, so it’s set properly, and then rotates his plate, so the design is dead center to where he’s seated. “He likes it. Wants to talk numbers a bit more, but he was into the idea.”
I give him a smile and clap him on the back. “You didn’t need me. Let’s talk numbers with him tomorrow.”
Michael smiles. The nerves gone, anxiety quelled for the moment, and he’s proud of himself. As he should be. He sells himself short, but he’s a damn fine businessman in addition to the outdoor sports guy he’s known around town as. The climber. The guy who can scale rock walls like he’s some kind of superhero.
“New York,” I say quietly to him.
“You were in New York?” Everly pipes in from across the table.
G’s eyes dart over to mine. Curiously.
I look back to my sister. “It’s not what you think. I just needed to stop in and tie up a few loose ends.”
The problem is, I really don’t know why I went there this time. It’s on autopilot in my brain to go there as an escape.
Everly eyes me, knowing that whenever I went to Manhattan, it was to search. Ask questions and find out more about what happened. It always led to dead ends, the same conclusion that I just couldn't let lie. That the woman I met that night was dead. And now, as I look at her sitting across the table, quietly questioning my motives for going to her city, I realize they were right. That woman is gone, but the woman across from me is alive. Safe. And I need to help make sure she stays that way.
“I hear New York is nicer in the wintertime. All that snow and hoopla at Rockefeller,” G pipes in over a mouthful of cheese pizza. “A total spectacle, but stunning nonetheless.”
What is she doing?
“Winter here is better. But I like the late summers in that city. That time of year holds some good memories for me,” I say.
She takes a sip of her water. “Hmm. You’re definitely more of a mountain guy than a city boy. You must stand out like a sore thumb. All those suits and polished men,” she says, poking and trying to get under my skin. It’s not working, but it’s amusing to watch her try. “Men like that are punctual and never leave anyone high and dry.” The dig has me coughing on my sip of beer.
But I can play too. “Polished is nice, but I prefer to leave them sprawled and wet,” I say back without even thinking about who else is around us.
My dad barks out a laugh. Michael stares at me mid-bite. Law cups his hand and makes a hooting noise.
“Why is this so much fun to watch?” Law looks at Everly, shaking his head. “Ev, why are they so entertaining? I feel like I’m intruding, but I can’t look away.”
I take a bite of my bacon pizza and just stare back at G. She’s pissed. But I’m ready to take whatever she wants to dish out. I’m half hard thinking about her lashing out at me.
“Nothing to look at, just a tiny little ego trying to keep up with big clit energy.”
Everly laughs around her mouthful of food as Giselle levels me with a sarcastically laced smile. “I need to head out. I have a bachelorette party coming through in about an hour to get matching ink. Should be fun.” She moves toward my dad’s chair and kisses his cheek. “Thanks for dinner, Ash. I’m sorry I ruined the casserole.”
“All good. Try again soon?”