Chapter 22
Every time I pass Alba’s Kitchen on a walk or a run, I think of Demi. I’ve thought about taking her here a thousand times. And it’s the first place that popped into my mind when I suggested we have dinner tonight.
Pulling up the menu on my phone, I skim through the section labeled Alba’s Favorites and decide to order a handful of different things to try.
I haven’t had a lot of the food I just ordered, but I definitely love to try everything at least once.
Plus, I know I’ve seen Demi with an empanada in her hand on multiple occasions, and really, you can’t go wrong with an empanada.
After placing the order, I grab two giant blankets from the hall closet and as many pillows as I can carry, shove my phone into my pocket along with my keys, and make my way to the roof.
I come up here a lot in the summer—especially lately.
With all my friends coupled up, a lot of my evenings are spent alone.
It would be easy to find company, but I don’t want just any company.
I stopped wanting something casual, meaningless, and unfulfilling.
Seeing all the people I love the most find a partner to spend their time with made me realize that’s actually something I want too.
Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled for Ford and Abby—even though she took my number one wingman away from me.
And with Nate and Mia, it was only a matter of time for them to get their heads out of their asses.
Summer really could’ve had just about any man she laid her eyes on, but I watched how she tirelessly loved Chase—and CeCe—for years, before Chase finally came to his fucking senses.
I’ve sat back for the last few years watching all my friends fall in love. I didn’t think I was ready for it for a while. A long while, to be honest. The only woman I ever really wanted to see me—couldn’t.
But I feel like I have a second chance. A window of time to prove to her that I’m not who people think I am—and I really don’t want to blow it.
“Thank you so much, I’ll be right down.” I end the call after Rob tells me my food is here.
He offered to bring it up, but there’s no way I’m having that man trek up the elevator and then hike up stairs and out here when I’m perfectly capable.
When I glance at my watch, I have about ten minutes until Demi should be up here. That is, unless she completely ghosts me. I hadn’t considered that until this very second, and now I’m fucking spiraling as I head down to the lobby.
“Awful lot of food you’ve got here. Is this what they call carb-loading before a big game?” Rob chuckles when he sees me walking toward him.
I smile, reaching for the bags on the counter and begin hanging them from my forearm so I don’t have to make multiple trips.
“She likes this place,” he says softly, tipping his chin down as he moves back around to the center of his desk. “I’ve seen her order it a couple of times. You did good.”
I’m silent for a moment before he speaks again.
“I’m an old man, Mr. Evans. I can recognize a man enamored by a woman the way you are from a mile away.”
I don’t try to hide the smile as he takes a seat in his chair, leaning back.
“Go on,” he says, flipping his hand at me. “Have a good night, Mr. Evans.”
“Call me Liam.” I nod graciously at him.
He smiles, lifting his glasses from the end of his nose, and directs his attention back to the door.
I swallow hard as I’m standing over the blankets and pillows I’ve set up in the shady corner up here when my phone dings.
Girl of my dreams
Just to clarify… you’re actually on the roof?
I let out a laugh, knowing she’s probably just making sure I wasn’t fucking with her.
Instead of a simple yes, I pull up my camera and take a selfie with the downtown skyline in the background and send it to her.
The moment it says Read, I imagine her rolling her eyes, and damn, if that doesn’t get me going.
A few moments later I hear the door close and turn to see Demi walking toward me.
She’s so pretty. The kind of pretty that owns a room whenever she walks in—no matter where she is.
It’s the first thing that crosses my mind the second I see her. She’s changed into a pair of black leggings and a dark gray T-shirt with a distressed dragon on the front. Likely a nod to some of the books she says she reads.
“Hi,” I say, taking a few steps closer to her.
“Oh, wow.” She looks around at the setup behind me.
Take-out containers set up on the blanket next to a couple of waters and pillows.
“Just a few things.”
She stammers a little as she sits on one of the pillows. “A few?” She laughs. “Looks like you ordered one of everything.” I smile, taking a seat opposite her. “Also, feels worth noting that a yes or even a thumbs-up emoji would suffice. You didn’t need to send a selfie.”
“Yeah, but now you have a picture of me on your phone whenever you want to see my face. I gave you my best smile.”
“Your face is on the building I work at.” She opens the take-out container and grabs something to add to her plate of food. “I could do without the selfie, no matter how nice the scenery was.”
“Thank you.”
She sighs as she holds back a smile with her teeth. “I meant the skyline, the—the view behind you.”
My head tilts back slightly. “Oh, you hurt me, Dem,” I say, staring directly at her as I smirk. “I love it.”
“Unbelievable,” she mutters, but I see her fighting the smile.
I’m still shocked she agreed to meet me up here, but I’ve decided the best way for Demi to get to know me is by spending time with me, and what better way to do that than over food?
“I’ve never had this before.” I lift up the toston in my hand and take another bite. And I’ve been missing out, because this shit is good.
“They’re good, right? This place makes them perfectly. They’re one of my favorite foods.”
I nod as I take another one from the container. “Really fucking good. That’s good too,” I say, gesturing to the box to her right.
“Mm-hmm,” she says between bites. “I love how flavorful the chicken is.”
We pass around a few containers, each taking more than enough food to feed us, and just watch the clouds move in the sky.
It’s warm, but this part of the rooftop is well shaded, and since our floor is private access from other tenants, the roof is too. For someone who isn’t too big on heights, the roof has never really bothered me.
“Thanks for getting all of this.” Demi wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin after taking a sip of water. “What do I owe you? I can send it now or do cash.”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t expect you to buy me dinner.”
“I know you don’t.”
“So, can I please pay you? I’m able to pay my half.”
I brush my hands off and lean back into one of the pillows against the wall.
“Dem, I know you’re able to. I offered to grab dinner, let me do one nice thing for you.”
“You’ve done a lot of nice things for me lately, Liam.” Her voice is low.
“That a bad thing?”
I watch the wind rustle the wisps of her hair that frame her face and she tucks them behind her ear, but it’s no use with the breeze.
“Undecided,” she says firmly.
“I like doing things for people, especially you.” I shrug and lean a little closer to her.
There isn’t much space between us on this blanket, but I swear it feels like she’s miles away from me.
A moment of silence passes and then another as I watch Demi battle her inner turmoil over me refusing to take her money. I don’t know all the reasons she’s so fucking guarded and reluctant to let me do anything nice for her, but I’m sure it has a lot to do with her divorce.
“Have you ever had flan?” She finally breaks the silence, and I don’t miss her scoot a bit closer.
“I have, it’s great.”
She nods, a soft smile spreading over her lips.
“I’ll repay you in flan. I make it. Well, I’ve made it before.
It’s my mom’s recipe so it isn’t as good as hers, but it’s still pretty good.
I like to try her recipes whenever I can—which isn’t often, but this is one my mom and abuela both made often growing up. ”
“Did your mom cook a lot when you were growing up?”
She nods again. “All the time. I really think making us food was her love language.”
“That’s awesome,” I admit.
“Did yours?”
I shake my head, noticeably crinkling my face together. “My mom wasn’t a big cook. She had a couple dishes that she made on rotation every so often, but for the most part, there was a chef who cooked, and it was very much catered to my dad’s wants.”
Memory flashes of a pan of lemon pepper chicken with roasted potatoes and ears of corn.
My favorite thing my mom used to make, even if it wasn’t anything groundbreaking.
I fucking loved it. But it wasn’t something we had too often.
Our lives were so busy when we were young.
Between my dad’s career and my sports, it was rare we spent more than two nights a week together as a family for dinner.
“Well, still, I bet those few dishes were amazing.” Demi smiles at me with a tiny look of pity, and I hate it.
The pity part, not the smile. Because goddamn, I’d do anything to see those dimples on display like that.
“So are you all settled in?” I haven’t seen the inside of her apartment since the day I borrowed eggs.
“Yeah, I think so. I should probably get some more glasses and plates, things like that. But honestly I don’t host anything, and—as pathetic as it sounds—I don’t really have friends around here that I’d invite over, so I guess maybe I don’t need them.
” She chuckles, and this time it’s me who offers the smile laced with a small amount of pity.
“It isn’t pathetic. I hate hosting. I’ll be someone’s dinner guest every night of the week, but I want my space to be…I don’t know, mine.” I shrug, feeling a little odd I just said all that out loud.
“At least you have friends you can hang out with, though.”
“You want ’em?” I laugh. “Seriously, take the girls.”
“Wow.” Her eyes shine as she laughs. “How would they feel knowing you’re so easily giving them away?”
“They’d understand.”
We exchange smiles again, and I feel like she finally settles. There’s no stiffness to her anymore, no pauses to make carefully thought-out sentences. She’s just being.
“That’s kind of how I’ve always felt, though—going back to your last point about your home just being your space. I’ve always been a homebody, and I mean, I love socializing when I feel like it, but being able to come home to a quiet house is so good for me.”
“Right?”
“Kind of surprised you aren’t the one hosting all your gatherings, though.” She raises a brow to me.
“At this point, it’s probably easier for my friends to host, especially those with kids.
But even before that—Chase always did the poker nights, Ford did a lot of the barbeques, and Nate and I kind of rotated for chill hangouts.
I’ve never had a party here. Despite whatever the rumor mill might like to say about me, I’m not actually a wild party animal. ”
She eyes me intently, seemingly surprised we’re so alike on this topic.
“So, you didn’t have the idea to throw two footballs at the same time to two separate moving Jet Skis over the summer? Or was that one just a crazy rumor?”
“No.” I laugh, and she starts to shake her head as she smirks. “That was all me.” I proudly grin.