Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
HAZEL
By the time Tuesday rolls around, I’m both looking forward to Sushi Night at Nonnie’s and dreading it, for the simple reason that Preston is bringing Jude to dinner. And while I know, rationally, that meeting the best friend is a totally normal next step, it feels terrifying.
At five-fifty-seven, I’m in Nonnie’s kitchen, placing the tuna, salmon, and California rolls on a serving platter, when the buzzer rings. Nonnie winks at me over her glasses, like she knows exactly how nervous I am and is living for it, then strolls over to answer the door.
Preston walks in looking outrageously good in a black Henley and dark jeans, his hair artfully tousled, smile locked and loaded.
Next to him stands a slightly shorter, wilder-haired man in a button-down shirt and faded jeans.
This must be Jude. Preston already warned me that his best friend has the energy of a caffeinated golden retriever.
I can’t help but laugh when he steps in to hug Nonnie like they’re old friends and introduces himself.
Jude pivots to face me, all restless energy and that reckless, easy grin, like the world’s full of old friends and I’m just another one waiting to happen. “You must be Hazel!” he says, exuberant enough to turn heads. “So nice to meet you.”
I give him a smile. “You as well,” I say, just as he moves in for a hug—But Preston’s faster.
One arm slides between us, an unspoken claim, his mouth quirking up at the corner. “Look but don’t touch,” Preston says, voice low and satisfied, not even pretending to look at Jude. “She’s taken.”
Jude laughs, holding up his hands in quick surrender. “Selfish jerk,” he fires back, full of swagger and zero heat. “Now I get why you’ve been useless in the office for a month.”
Preston just rolls his eyes, but Nonnie, never missing a beat, waves us all to the table. “We can chit-chat while we eat,” she says. “The sushi is getting warm, and no one wants that.”
We shuffle around the table, taking our places—Nonnie commanding her throne at the head, me sliding in beside her, Preston claiming the chair next to mine, his knee immediately finding mine under the tablecloth. Jude slides into the chair directly across from me.
Jude immediately launches into stories—mostly about college and how Preston used to get lost on his own campus because he refused to use maps. “He has a photographic memory for blueprints,” Jude says, pointing with his chopsticks, “but couldn’t find the student union for an entire semester.”
Preston rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth lift. “I knew where it was. I just didn’t want to go.”
Jude leans in, confiding in Nonnie, “Don’t believe him. And don’t ever let him do the navigating.”
Nonnie takes this as an opening and tells them the story of how we ended up taking a detour through Dallas when we should’ve been heading south to Houston. “It all worked out, though. We found this great outlet mall in Grapevine.”
“The Grapevine Mills?” Jude asks, and I can see my shopaholic grandmother is impressed.
“That’s the one.” She goes on to tell Jude all about the new jogging suit and sneakers she got for a steal.
Before you know it, she’s got the two men trading stories so fast I can barely keep up, but the whole time, Preston is still hyper-attuned to me. Every so often, his hand finds my thigh under the table, or he nudges my knee with his.
At one point, I catch Preston staring at my mouth. I lick a bit of stray wasabi off my thumb and feel my cheeks heat up. Preston’s smile gets soft, and then he turns back to Jude, but I can feel his hand squeezing my knee a little tighter.
Jude tells Nonnie a story about how Preston once spent forty-eight hours redesigning a client’s kitchen because he was convinced “something felt off.”
“He’s like Rainman of kitchen design, and I’m the Yoda of bedrooms,” Jude says. I almost choke on my sip of Coke, and Nonnie chuckles. “I mean, I’m the Yoda of designing bedrooms,” he clarifies.
Nonnie’s eyes sparkle. “I knew what you meant,” she says.
Preston’s hand migrates further up my thigh, and I stifle a squeak, wondering how much longer before I can make up some excuse to get Preston alone.
As the evening winds down, everyone pitches in with the clean-up. Preston and Jude clear the table while I bag the trash. Once the kitchen is mostly restored to order, Jude claps Preston on the back and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m heading home to drown myself in Netflix.”
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out,” Preston tells him.
Jude rolls his eyes at Preston, then turns to give Nonnie a formal bow. “Madame Winslet, thank you for your hospitality. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”
“I’m so glad you came,” she gushes, and I realize he already won my grandmother over. “We’ll have to do this again.”
“You can count on it,” he tells her before he turns his attention to me. “Hazel, it’s been a pleasure. I don’t know what you see in my ugly ass best friend, but he’s one lucky guy.”
Preston gives me a little squeeze, then leans over to growl for Jude’s ears only, “Fuck off, asshole.”
“Good night to you, too.”
After Jude slips out the front door, Nonnie starts fiddling with the TV remote, clearly shifting into British murder mysteries, so I grab my keys and purse.
Preston leans down, brushing my hair off my neck, voice low. “Need me to walk you to your car?” We both know that’s code for, “I’ll walk you up to my apartment.” We’re keeping secrets, but I don’t know how to tell Nonnie that I spend most nights in Preston’s ultra comfy California King bed.
“Sure,” I say, not trusting myself to speak more than one syllable.
We make it to the hallway before Nonnie calls after us, “You don’t have to pretend on my account. I know you’ve been staying at Preston’s house.”
I stop in my tracks. “Um, what?”
Preston freezes, then turns, expression full of shock.
Nonnie appears in the doorway, hands on her hips, chin tilted up. “I’ve been going out to breakfast with the building’s senior club several mornings a week. Each time we leave the parking garage, I see your car is parked in my parking spot.”
Oof. Where do I even start? “The building has a senior club?”
“Mable Jenkins and Marlene Winters started it.” Nonnie shrugs like it’s no big deal. “They invited me to join, and I jumped at the chance to hang out with people my own age.”
“That’s great.” It really is. I was starting to worry that I won’t have as much time to spend with Nonnie now that I’m in a committed relationship with Preston.
“It is.” She looks back and forth between Preston and me. “Now, stop trying to change the subject. I know you’ve been staying at Preston’s apartment, and I couldn’t be happier.”
I can’t help it—I snort, feeling like I just took a two-by-four right between the eyes. “What?”
She shakes her head, exasperated. “Hazel, you’re grown. If I learned one thing from being married to your grandfather for thirty-seven years, it’s that you know when you know. There’s no point dragging your heels if you’ve found your person.”
My face burns. “Aren’t you supposed to be… like… against living together before marriage?”
She snorts. “Darling, this isn’t the sixties. I trust your judgment, and frankly, I trust Preston.” She fixes Preston with a look so piercing I feel it in my spleen. “Just don’t break her heart, young man, or I’ll make you regret the day you left California.”
Preston, never one to back down, grins widely. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of it. I love her too much for that.” He slides his hand around my waist, pulling me tight. “But just for the record, I’m pretty fond of you, too.”
“Ditto.” Nonnie beams, a little misty around the edges. “Now, you two run along so I can watch the rest of my show.” We each give her a kiss on the cheek and head out.
As we step out into the hallway, Preston’s thumb circles my hip, lazy and confident. “I guess you’re moving in.”
I lean against him, laughing because it’s all so ridiculous and so perfect. “Maybe.”
“Let’s see if I can convince you.” He kisses me, slow and deep, and the world shrinks down to just us, the buzz of the hallway lights, and the faint sound of the elevator zipping past the floor. When we finally come up for air, he stares down into my eyes. “Now will you move in with me?”
Oh, hell yes. But I can’t resist seeing how far he’ll go to convince me. “I’d say it’s an ‘almost definitely’.”
He places a soft kiss on my nose and asks, “Why don’t we head home and see if I can do a better job of pleading my case?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” As we walk down the hallway hand in hand, I realize Nonnie was right. Sometimes, you just know.