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“That would be…nice. It smells amazing.” My mouth watered as he pulled it out of the oven.
“Thanks. It’s my mom’s recipe. She’s Italian, and she was firm on making sure we all knew how to cook the basics, you know?”
My stomach dropped at the words. “I kind of missed that with my mom.”
His gaze snapped to mine. “Sorry…”
I waved him off. I’d been a freshman in high school when Mom died. I’d had a long time to come to terms with her car accident, but it still sometimes hit me in the chest how much I’d lost and missed out on. Especially when I was already down. “You don’t have to apologize. I can’t get her back, and it’s been a long time. I want to hear about your mom.”
“Well,” he said, dishing us each a plate, “I miss her, but we talk on the phone every week.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “She got a new job, working at a corporate office in Seattle. We asked her to come to Lubbock, but she’s always lived in Seattle. I’m not sure she’d do it unless one of us had a kid.”
I sputtered, “That would be something.”
“For real. Plot twist.”
I took a seat opposite him and dug into the lasagna. “Holy shit!” I groaned with a full mouth.
“You like it?”
“Like?” I asked after I swallowed. “Try love. This is unbelievable.”
“Thanks. You should try my mom’s. It’s way better.”
“No way. This is…a godsend.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He gestured to our new plant. “What’s this about?”
“I’m turning into a plant lady.”
He snorted. “That ship has sailed.”
“True,” I admitted as I shoveled pasta into my mouth. But Weston was still looking at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. As if he already knew that something had happened. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said automatically. “Just…Campbell texted and said to check on you, that you seemed off.”
“He did not!”
Weston chuckled. “Oh no, your brother cares about you,” he said sarcastically.
“I know he cares, but…ugh! How did he even know?”
“I don’t know. He said that you lied about work, but he just let you go.”
I groaned. “Great.”
“Could be worse.”
I waved my fork at him. “I doubt Whitt interferes in your life.”
Weston nearly choked on his bite. “Are you kidding me? All Whitt does is meddle. He literally asked me about my five-year plan the minute I saw him.”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “Seriously? You just got back.”
“Trust me, Harley and I dug into him.”
“How is your sister doing?”
“Four-point-oh last semester. Honor roll. Research assistant,” Weston said with pride. “She’s coming to Campbell’s party tomorrow.”
“It’ll be good to see her. She’s a badass.”
He shook his head. “She’s something.” Then, his eyes met mine again. “That was a clever turn of subject. You going to tell me what’s actually going on?”
I blew out a harsh breath. “Not going to let it go?”
“Nope.”
“I saw August today.”
West stilled. “Why?”
“He wanted to apologize for what Tamara did at the winery.”
“I hope you told him to fuck off,” he practically growled.
