Chapter 29
twenty-nine
. . .
Jess
Steam rises from Sophia’s kitchen island as she tosses green beans with garlic and olive oil.
The scent of her famous meatloaf, actually Grant’s mom’s recipe, wafts from the oven, making my stomach growl in anticipation.
Through the window, I can see Lucas and Grant on the patio, beers in hand, deep in conversation beside the fire pit.
“Are these ready to go out?” I ask, arranging chocolate-dipped strawberries on a serving plate.
“Perfect.” Sophia nods appreciatively. “You didn’t have to bring dessert, though.”
“Lucas made them, actually.” The words slip out casually, but Sophia’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Lucas Carmichael made chocolate-covered strawberries?”
I can’t help smiling. “He’s full of surprises.”
“Speaking of surprises,” Sophia says, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “we’ve missed you at Sunday brunches. Stella keeps asking if you’ve abandoned the girl gang for married life.”
I focus intently on arranging the strawberries. “Work’s been busy. The podcast is—”
"Jess." Sophia fixes me with that no-nonsense Oscar-winning stare.
My shoulders slump slightly. It’s oddly relieving to drop the act, even for a moment. “I don’t really know what’s going on.”
“Well, from what I’ve seen tonight, you two aren’t exactly sticking to the ‘business arrangement’ playbook.”
I glance at Lucas again. He’s laughing at something Grant said, and the firelight casts his profile in warm gold. My chest tightens in that now-familiar way.
“We’ve sort of adjusted the parameters,” I admit.
“That’s exactly what Lucas said to Grant,” Sophia says.
“Wait, Lucas talked to Grant about us?”
“You two are hopeless. Yes, apparently, Lucas was equally evasive while simultaneously being completely transparent about having feelings for you.”
“He said he has feelings?” The words come out embarrassingly breathless.
“Not in so many words, but Grant said that it’s written all over his face.” She studies me. “Like whatever’s written all over yours right now.”
I turn away, busying myself with the dessert again. “It’s just physical. We’re both adults. No reason we can’t enjoy the situation.”
“Mmhmm.” Sophia sounds thoroughly unconvinced. “And that’s why you’re blushing like a teenager?”
“I’m not…” I touch my cheeks, which are indeed warm. “It’s hot in here.”
“Sure it is,” she teases, but then she softens. “Look, I get it. Falling for someone when you’re not supposed to? Been there. It’s terrifying.”
“I’m not falling for him,” I say automatically, but it sounds hollow even to my own ears.
Sophia just waits, adding butter to the green beans.
“Fine.” I sigh. “It’s just, he gets me, you know?
Not the podcast host or the team owner’s daughter, but me.
Even the difficult parts.” I fiddle with a strawberry that won’t stay in place.
“And he has this whole other side that nobody sees. He’s thoughtful and surprisingly funny, and he makes the best coffee, and—”
“And you’re in love with him,” Sophia finishes gently.
“I’m in something,” I admit. “But in less than three months, the documentary wraps, I get my inheritance, and the arrangement ends. That was the deal.”
“Deals can be renegotiated.”
The hope that flares in my chest is almost painful. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is.” She squeezes my arm. “But you should know this better than anybody. Sometimes, the complicated things are the ones most worth fighting for.”
Before I can respond to Sophia, the kitchen door bangs open, and a whirlwind of curls and gangly limbs bursts in.
“Is that chocolate? Did someone say strawberries?” Hazel slides across the tile floor in her socks, coming to a dramatic stop at the island. Her eyes widen at my platter. “Those look AMAZING!”
“Lucas made them for dessert,” I tell her. She starts to reach for the platter.
“Hands first,” I remind her, surprising myself by how naturally the words come.
Hazel grins and spins toward the sink. “You sound just like Sophia now!” She returns with clean hands and eyes the strawberries with undisguised longing.
“One,” I tell her, unable to resist that hopeful face. “The rest are for after dinner.”
She selects the largest one with careful deliberation. “Dad wants to know if the table should be set outside because it’s nice or inside because it might get cold.”
“Outside,” Sophia decides. “We’ll use the heaters if it gets too cool. Want to help Jess take these plates out?”
“Yes!” Hazel announces, with a smudge of chocolate already on her chin. “I’ll take the small plates. I’m not allowed to carry the big ones since ‘The Incident.’”
“The Incident?” I ask, gathering silverware.
“I may have done a twirl while carrying Dad’s favorite serving dish,” she explains with a dramatic sigh. “There were many pieces. Much sadness.”
I laugh, following her toward the patio. “I’ve broken my share of dishes, too.”
“Really?” Her eyes light up. “Did you get in trouble?”
“Well, not since I was about your age,” I admit.
She nods sagely. “Grown-ups get away with everything.”
As we step outside, Lucas looks up from his conversation with Grant, and his expression immediately softens when he sees me. He looks at me like I’m something precious he can’t quite believe is real, and it makes my stomach flip.
“Lucas!” Hazel announces. “Jess said you made these amazing strawberries, and I already ate one, and it was perfect!”
“My secret talents are revealed,” he says, coming over to help with the plates. Our fingers brush as he takes them from me, and even that small contact sends warmth up my arm.
“You guys look at each other like people in the movies,” Hazel observes, setting down forks with surprising precision. “Like when the music gets all swoopy and everything else goes blurry.”
Grant chokes on his beer while Sophia unsuccessfully tries to hide her smile.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Grant murmurs.
Lucas and I exchange glances, embarrassed but amused.
“Kids,” I say with a dismissive laugh that doesn’t quite land.
“Say more things, Hazel,” Sophia encourages with a mischievous glint in her eye. “What else have you noticed about Lucas and Jess?”
“Sophia,” Hazel says, sighing with the exasperation only a seven-year-old can muster. “You’re being obvious again.”
This breaks the tension, and we all laugh as we settle around the table. Under the guise of reaching for the salt, Lucas’s hand finds mine and squeezes it briefly.
“Swoopy music, huh?” he whispers.
“Ridiculous,” I whisper back, but I can’t stop smiling.