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Eventually, I start the process of setting up our dinner display. Once I cover the bed with one of the large bathroom towels, I set out two forks and a few of the plates.
Sophie makes it very apparent that pancakes covered with whipped cream and strawberries are her top choice. I know this, because she grabs the plate with two greedy hands and moves it to her lap.
“Not sharing that one, eh?” I question as I sit on the bed beside her, my body only clothed in a pair of black boxer briefs.
“Nope.” She shakes her head and laughs around her first bite.
I waver between the burger and tacos for a good ten seconds, but eventually, the tacos win out. One crunchy bite in and I nod. “Oh yeah, these are good.”
“The decision to eat room service in bed is one of the best decisions I’ve ever forced you to make,” she states around another bite of pancakes.
“Not nearly as good as what went down in the elevator earlier, but it’s up there.”
She blushes and grins, and just when I’m about to start waxing poetic about her mouth’s superior oral skills, my phone chimes loudly with a text message from the bedside table. I snag it off and see a message from the last person I’d ever expect.
Someone I haven’t heard from in forever.
Kyle: Do you know any good lawyers in Cuba? Currently in a bit of a pickle.
I laugh. Outright.
“What is it?” Sophie asks, and I turn the screen of my phone to let her read the text. Instantly, her eyes go wide. “Uh…that doesn’t sound good…”
“Yeah, it doesn’t,” I agree. “But that’s how shit always is with Kyle.”
“Is he a friend of yours?”
“Well, it’s been years since I’ve talked to him, but yeah, growing up, we were pretty close as teenagers. Although, all three of my brothers hated him.”
She quirks a curious brow. “It sounds like there’s a story behind that.”
“Kyle was known for trouble,” I elaborate. “When I was seventeen, the FBI came to my door looking for him. Not even kidding. All because he stabbed himself with a K bar knife while playing ‘Commando Games’ in Central Park.”
Her face pinches into disbelief. “That doesn’t sound real.”
“Oh, but it is. And that incident was pretty much the last straw for his dad. Right after that, he shipped Kyle off to military school. We kept in touch here and there, but I swear, it’s been, like, thirteen years since I last talked to him.”
“So…are you going to respond?”
I nod and quickly type out a message. Once I hit send, I turn the phone so she can read it.
Me: Dude, the only things I know about Cuba I learned from the movie Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. I don’t think that’s the kind of expertise you need.
Sophie covers her mouth to laugh at my cinematic tastes, and I roll my eyes, saying simply, “My sister.” And Kyle responds while both Sophie and I are looking at the screen.
Kyle: Ah, hell. Thanks anyway. Hope you’re good, man!
“That’s it?” she questions with an incredulous gawk to her mouth. “No explanation. No nothing?”
“Yep. That’s Kyle. The most random motherfucker you’ll ever meet.”
“This might be irrational, but I feel kind of angry that I have no idea what’s happening with him in Cuba,” she comments. “I guess I’m starting to understand why your brothers hated him.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod. “Remy, my oldest brother, hated him the most.”
“What are your other brothers’ names?”
“Well, actually, I have three brothers and one sister,” I expand. “Winnie is the youngest out of all of us Winslows. Then there’s me. Then there’s Ty. Then Flynn. And Remy.”
“That’s quite the brood,” she comments. “I have fewer siblings than you. Only two sisters for me.”
“Clearly, I remember Belle,” I tell her with a grin. “Kind of hard to forget all that confusion.”
She snorts. “Yep. Belle, my twin, and then Katelynn. She’s the oldest.”
For some strange reason, I find myself asking her more questions about her family. “So, are both your parents in the picture?”
She nods. “My mom and dad have been married since before Katelynn was born, and they’re now happily living the retiree life in Miami. What about you?”
“Dad left when we were young. My mom is very much present. Strongest woman I know. I also have my uncle Brad and aunt Paula, who have always been like second parents to us.”
“Damn, your dad left your mom with all those kids?”
I couldn’t agree more. “Talk about a real bastard, huh?”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” She reaches out and places a gentle hand on my thigh, but even though it feels nice to have someone be that kind, my inclination to brush it off is strong.
“Thanks, babe. But there’s no need for sadness or sympathy on my behalf. If anyone deserves that, it’s my dad. I think we can both agree it was truly his loss leaving us all.”
