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“I’m a man of my word. I would’ve been here sooner if I didn’t have to circle around the block six times trying to find parking. And don’t even get me started on that garage across the street. I’d lose my mind if I had to spend half my life in that damn building of hell.”
“It’s shitty, isn’t it? That garage is the sole reason I take the Metro. The only cars that can fit in those spots are Mini Coopers. You’re screwed if you have something bigger than a sedan.” I gesture to his arms. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nah, I got it.”
He heads for the living room and puts the gifts under the Christmas tree next to the presents I have for him. He’s careful as he sets them down on the tree skirt, and he makes sure you can see all the boxes and bags. It looks like a family lives here, and my heart stutters in my chest.
I’ve never had presents under the tree from someone else before.
“Food first,” I say, and I pull down two plates. “We need to have full stomachs for gift giving.”
“I was a little overwhelmed with menu options,” Shawn admits. The paper bag he slides across the counter is ripping at the seams. Cutlery sticks out from the top, and one handle is broken. “I didn’t know if you wanted regular spaghetti. Spaghetti carbonara. With or without meatballs. Cacio e Pepe. So, I ordered all of them.”
“Holy shit.” I unload the four boxes and burst out laughing. It looks like a buffet line spread out in my kitchen, complete with an entire loaf of garlic bread. “The chef probably thought you were ordering for six people.”
“Or sixteen. Wrong; I’m just one indecisive asshole.” He sits on the barstool and motions for me to join him. “Have you talked to your parents the last couple of days?”
“I called them yesterday when you were in the shower after the snowball fight. They sound good; my mom is learning how to crochet, and she said she’s making me a hat. My dad complained about the Orlando basketball team after another loss. Pretty typical conversation for us.”
“I’m glad they’re doing well.” Shawn serves a helping of all four dishes onto my plate. “Dig in, Daniels.”
I start with the carbonara, and I hum my approval. “What would you eat as your last meal on Earth? If there was an asteroid approaching the planet and you only had twenty-four hours to live, tell me what you’d pick to snack on in your dying minutes.”
“I love when things get morbid at the dinner table. Let’s see. I’d do a combo meal. Chips and salsa, for sure. That was my go-to snack after practice back when I was in the league. I feel like you can’t go wrong with a nice, juicy burger. Throw some pickles and mustard on there with a single tomato? Fuck, I would murder that thing. For dessert I’d either pick you or one of your pumpkin pies.”
“I would be dessert?” I laugh and take another bite of my pasta. “Of everything you could have, you’d pick me?”
“Have you tasted yourself?” Shawn asks, and he lifts an eyebrow. “You’re delicious. Now I’m imagining eating pumpkin pie off of you, and I’m getting hard.”
“That’s all it takes? You sure are easy to please. Hell, we could do that after dinner and presents.”
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” He taps my foot and nods. “What would you pick?”
“I agree with you on the chips and salsa. Some good queso would be nice too.” I rip off a piece of garlic bread and toss it in my mouth. “I have to pick sushi, obviously. I’d commit a murder for a good spicy salmon roll. Dessert I’d go with chocolate brownies. Fudgy, gooey, delicious things.”
“Kind of pissed you didn’t choose my dick, but I’ll let it slide,” Shawn says, and he twirls his noodles around his fork. “It’s too bad I can’t build an asteroid-proof bunker in twenty-four hours so I can survive and keep eating his spaghetti. This might be my new favorite place.”
“How’d you find out about it?” I ask. “You don’t strike me as someone who eats out a lot.”
His mouth curls into a grin. “I did a lot of eating out on the bathroom counter a couple of nights ago,” he says, and I throw a napkin at his head. “Nah, I prefer to cook. I like being in the kitchen. Dallas recommended it to me, and it gets my stamp of approval.”
“Mine, too.” I slurp down a noodle. “Back to practice for you all tomorrow, right?”
“Yup. We’ll see who got off the couch in the last week, and who spent their time drinking eggnog. Don’t forget we’re hanging out with Maggie and Aiden at the end of this week, too, when they get back from their trip.” Shawn wipes his hands and nudges his empty plate away. “Can you eat faster, please?” he asks, and a demand has never sounded so polite. “We have lots to get to.”
“Like presents and pie?”
“Exactly, Lacey girl. The most important things in life.”
“I’ll come back and finish. Let’s do some unwrapping.”
FORTY-FOUR
LACEY
Shawn almost sprintsto the tree, and I’m amazed he doesn’t fall and hurt himself on the rug.
He grabs a bag and hands it my way. I laugh at his enthusiasm and sit on the couch, getting comfortable as I drape a blanket over my legs.
