Page 12 of Against The Boards

“That was three years ago! And I didn’t mean to say it out loud!”

Liliana laughed. “Oh, brother, you have it bad.”

“I do not!”

“You don’t? You basically asked if she wanted to fuck you. Please, explain to me how you don’t?”

I spluttered before blurting, “I wanted to know why she hated me so much. The other part was because I drank too much tequila with her brother.”

“She hates your guts because you ask her rude questions!”

My sister wasn’t wrong. I knew I messed up, and I’d own up to it. I was trying to be nice to Rox last night, but when she glared at me, my lizard brain chanted, Say something really rude to her to piss her off. She’s hot when she’s mad. No other woman ever made me react that way, so out of character. I didn’t know what it was about Rox.

“Why did you ask that?” my sister asked again.

I sighed. “Because she’s hot when she’s mad. And maybe it’s fun to poke the bear.”

“Jesus. Look, you need to apologize. You should make her dinner.”

I didn’t think I heard her right.

“What?”

“She started a new job today, right? She’s probably super stressed from trying to learn everything at once. Make dinner when she gets home tonight and apologize. Try to bridge the gap so you can leave the past in the past.”

“TJ said she’s going through a hard time, and Noah told me her long-time girlfriend cheated on her.”

Liliana swore on the other line. “You remember when Kelly cheated on you?”

Kelly had been my high school girlfriend who stayed in Boston when I got drafted by Colorado. It hadn’t lasted long. I came home to surprise her in her dorm room, and she wasn’t alone. My chest ached thinking about it.

“It really hurt. I was miserable for months.”

“Exactly. She’s probably really hurting. Maybe her lashing out isn’t about you right now. Try to be nice to her—and stop saying rude things!”

My sister always had the best advice. “Thanks, Lil.”

“Mmmhmm. Hey, make her your pozole.”

I stroked my beard. It wasn’t a bad idea. Making pozole was kind of my specialty.

Growing up, my grandmother made me and my sister learn how to cook authentic Mexican food in her kitchen. She wanted us to keep in touch with our mother’s roots and remember where we came from. I loved that as a kid, especially on those days when my parents’ fights got to be too much, and we retreated to our grandparents’ home for comfort. I was a pretty good cook thanks to my grandmother, and I inherited her love of cooking for others. My sister teased me and said making food for others was my love language, whatever the fuck that meant.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“See, I’m always right. Make her dinner and then you two can finally get married and have cute babies.”

“Liliana!” I scolded.

“What?”

My family didn’t get that I didn’t want the whole marriage and kids thing. I loved my nephews, but I never wanted kids myself. My family had a hard time understanding that.

“You know how I feel about that. Besides, making her pozole doesn’t mean any of that will happen.”

She laughed. “I don’t know about that one, buddy.”

“Ugh, why did I call you? Wicked annoying!”