“I’m making garlic bread as well,” I said. “And maybe dessert.”
“I guess,” he said again. His brow creased. “What’s for dessert?”
I hooked my fingers into the belt loops of his khakis and reeled him in. “How about whatever you want? But not tiramisu, because Tyler and I drank the Marsala the other day.”
“Peanut butter cookies,” he said without even hesitating.
“Already made some,” I said.
Chase tried to smile and roll his eyes at the same time, which was awkward and weird, so I tugged him closer and put my arms around him. He let it happen, then said, “Should I bring anything? Like for dinner and shit?”
“Nah,” I said, warmth spreading through my chest at the effort he was making. “Just you.”
That was all I wanted.
We had pizza for dinner,because the gnocchi was a complete disaster. When she finally gave up, Sam was covered in flour and sticky dough and so was most of the kitchen. Chase and I helped her clean up while Mom ordered the pizzas.
“It didn’t look hard from the recipe,” Sam grumbled when we were sitting around the little kitchen table at last. “Mom, can you make mine pepperoni?”
“Sure,” Mom said. “Chase? What would you like?”
I waited for him to say he didn’t care, but he surprised me. “Hawaiian?”
“Gross,” Sam said, but she was grinning as she said it.
Chase gave her an awkward smile, but it looked like he was biting back a reply.
“You can flip her the bird,” I suggested. “She can take it.”
He flipped me the bird instead.
Sam hooted with laughter. “Okay, so Chase has zero taste. That explains why he’s dating you.”
I flipped her the bird that time, and she laughed even harder.
Chase rested his hand on my thigh underneath the table and shot me a grin.
Mom looked up from her phone. “Do we want garlic bread?”
“I’m making the garlic bread,” I said.
“But it’s free with this deal,” Mom said.
“Lee’s garlic bread is better,” Sam said. “It’s not weird and soggy.”
“It’s free, though,” Mom said.
“It’s still shit,” Sam pointed out.
“If we’re getting shitty pizzas, we might as well get shitty garlic bread,” Mom said and then sighed at the outraged look on Sam’s face. “Fine, we’ll eat your brother’s garlic bread, I guess.”
“I don’t know whether to be offended or not,” I said, pushing my chair back. “Chase, you want a soda?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Hey, Mom,” Sam said, “does your secret boyfriend Bradley know you have terrible taste in garlic bread?”
“He’s not my secret boyfriend,” Mom said, though her cheeks pinked up.
