Chapter 37
AVA
The aroma in the air was undeniably comforting. Soup, white and bubbling, boiled on Desmond’s large five-burner stove, and he was just putting the finishing touches on an arugula salad when the apartment door opened.
A young man—in his early twenties and with a mild resemblance to Desmond—who could only be his cousin, walked in.
He was as tall as me and had a goofy, cheerful attitude to him as he walked up and fist-bumped Desmond.
He smiled at me, a warm smile, while Desmond introduced us before taking out the pots from the stove and transferring the soup to the serving bowl.
Only a little splashed out on the counter, and I was ready with a washcloth to wipe it off.
Desmond steered me away from the kitchen and to the dining table. “Your job is to relax,” he reminded me. “Not to be useful.”
Brody walked up to the kitchen counter, inspecting the food. He turned to me. “Did Des really cook?” He sounded astounded.
I nodded. “He’s really good.”
Brody looked at Des and then back at me. “Des, a good cook?” he repeated, his voice filled with what seemed like laughter.
“Are you sure he hasn’t been passing off Betsy’s food as his own?” he continued while Desmond turned from the stove to give him a look.
He opened the oven door to check on the ribs before shutting the door and walking over to us. “Betsy’s on a well-deserved break, and I have indeed cooked in my own kitchen before,” Desmond insisted.
“What did he make?” Brody asked, turning to me as though Desmond didn’t exist.
I hesitated. “He made a really good salad,” I began when Brody guffawed, a hearty laugh that put me at ease.
“Argh, he took the easy way out,” Brody insisted.
“And chicken alfredo soup,” I continued.
“Still not too hard. Des could do that.”
“And braised short ribs.”
Brody’s mouth dropped open at that. “I used to hear stories about how Desmond would always burn toast when he was a teenager. Every morning. His mom would always be worried about the fire truck showing up while he was getting ready for school.”
“I was always in a hurry,” Desmond added, putting an arm around me.
Brody grinned. “I know why,” he said with a meaningful look at me.
I blushed. Desmond used to rush over to my house and walk me to school.
Desmond turned and winked at me while he poured us each a glass of red wine. “I had a great reason to hurry,” he said, handing us our glasses. “Five minutes more with Ava before school began? You bet I hurried.”
I tried to hide my smile behind my glass.
Brody turned to me, his face wicked serious. “I need to warn you though. Des has become very overprotective of the people he loves ever since school ended.”
I read between the lines. Ever since Desmond’s mother passed.
“That’s not a bad thing,” I said.
Brody shook his head. “Did he tell you how a missed call from me makes him think I’ve collapsed somewhere? He rushes out of whatever meeting he’s in to try to get to me.”
I nodded, remembering the time we were trapped together in the elevator. “I think I was witness to one such occasion.”
Brody’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know? And you can still stand to be around this man?”
“Excuse me,” Desmond interrupted. “Might I remind you that you’re my brother and you’re supposed to be rooting for me?”
Brody groaned and turned around to look at me. “Though, now that I think of it, he hasn’t overreacted to my missed calls in the past few weeks. Might you be the reason why?”
I wriggled out of Desmond’s grip. “I’ll let Desmond answer that question for me.”
Desmond walked over, spatula in hand, looking very domestic in his apron. I wanted to reach up and kiss him.
He put his arm around me, and when I turned up to smile at him, he dropped a kiss on my lips. Like he’d just read my mind.
I love this man, I realized. I’m hopelessly and completely in love with him.
“Oh, I can tolerate him all right,” I said when Desmond broke apart with a grin.
Desmond turned to Brody. “See that? She’s a keeper.”
Brody grinned. “Well, considering how you’re becoming almost normal now, I’ll hold you to those words.”