Page 24 of Can’t Say No

My mom is on a shopping trip somewhere, Italy maybe. I never know where she is. And Dad is in L.A. for business. A decade away from this place, and nothing has changed. I can’t count the number of weekends I spent here alone.

I plop down on the oversized sofa and pull out my phone. The last thing I should to be doing is a tipsy scroll through social media.

So, of course, I pour myself another glass of wine and read every post I can find about myself.

Maladaptive might as well be my middle name.

A knock on the back door yanks my attention away from my phone. I check the clock. 6:57. Nearly two hours of scrolling, nearly a full bottle of wine, and I’m in a worse mood than I was this morning.

“Connor, what the hell?” I shout, crossing the room to the glass door that leads to the back deck. “You scared the shit out of me.”

I open the door to a big, goofy smile and way too many groceries bags for one meal.

“What’s all this?” I ask, the last sip of my drink threatening to slosh over the rim as I gesture to the mountain of bags he’s balancing.

“Proper nutrition.” He smiles down at me. “Figured I should stock your kitchen while I’m here.”

I wordlessly lead him to the kitchen and hop up onto the counter, watching as he assess the sorry state of it.

“I’m warning you,” I say, words slurring just a little, “I’ve been scrolling gossip accounts all evening and have worked myself into a god-awful mood.”

“She may be a bitch, but at least she’s a self-aware bitch.” Connor teases.

“Never pretended to be anything else.” I swing my legs off the edge of the counter.

Connor shakes his head, his back to me as he unloads the groceries into my barren fridge.

“Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Something about the low gravel in his voice has my heart racing, and the sharp edge of my mood fading just a little.

Want you.

For a moment, I can see it. A partner, someone like Connor, cooking for me. A quiet Saturday night in. A small-town zip code. Normalcy. Contentment. Love.

But that’s a future that I’ll never have.

Too much baggage, too many expectations, and too much notoriety to slip into an ordinary life.

A quiet, simple existence is not in the cards for me.

“So what’s on the menu, chef?” I ask, pulling myself out of my daydream. Connor stands at the sink across the kitchen, rinsing something green.

He shrugs. “Nothing fancy. Asparagus, baby potatoes, and salmon.”

Nothing fancy, but more than I’d ever cook for myself. A pang of embarrassment hits me. I’ve been saving recipes and cooking videos for years, telling myself I’ll take the time to learn. But honestly, it’s been hard to find motivation when my life has always been fully staffed.

“Maybe you could teach me to cook,” I blurt out, hopping off my perch. “Just… the basics.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks as he shifts to look at me. Dumb idea. I start to open my mouth to take it back, but he beats me to it with that easy, goofy smile.

“Sure, Delaney. Happy to.”

Any embarrassment melts away as his eyes meet mine.

“I’ll add it to your contract,” I say, swiping my phone open to text my assistant.

Connor crosses the room in three easy strides and steps into my space, towering over me.