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“Sorry,” he said as he walked me to the kitchen. “I should’ve gone shopping for all the healthy stuff.”
“That’s okay.” I opened the fridge to see just how bad it was. “When is Glen going to be home?”
“Hopefully soon, unless the subway stops working.”
That wasn’t likely on a sunny day, so I had to make sure the kid had something to eat. We had steak, tomatoes, onions, lettuce, potatoes, the worst type of orange juice, and soda.
“Do you have a grill?”
“Yeah, I’ll throw all of that on,” Sean said, but I only gave him steak.
While he was taking care of the meat, I hunted down the pot and started cooking potatoes. The salad came next.
Sean walked back in and peeked into the pot. “What are you cooking?”
“Mashed potatoes.”
He took out a box of instant stuff from the cupboard and gave it to me. “You could just use this.”
I glared at it. Nope. Not happening.
“Okay, you don’t like making your own life easier. I get it.” Sean put the abomination away and poured himself a cup of coffee. “When can we go on that camping trip?”
When did I have days off on the weekends? “Probably in a couple of weeks. I work weekends most of the time, and I wouldn’t want Glen to miss school over it.”
“Glen can’t come with us. We’re supposed to have been fake dating for at least a year before Glen was in the picture. Damian can keep an eye on him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Right. I was going to be alone with Sean with no one but the squirrels to call for help. But it was fine. He was safe.
“Next week, then. I have three days off in a row.”
Sean copied my schedule into his phone, made a few notes, then went back out to check on the meat. As soon as the back door swung closed, the front door opened and a scrawny teenager appeared.
“Hi,” I said. “You must be Glen.”
“Hi.” He walked in, looking at his feet, then plopped on the couch.
Sean ran back in with a platter of steak and looked between me and Glen, the top of whose head was barely visible over the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the dining and living room areas.
“Hey, little bro. So, this is Vera.”
“I know,” Glen answered, already turning a video game on.
This was going as well as a gas pipeline inside a volcano.
“The food is almost ready,” Sean said.
“Is it healthy?” Glen asked.
“The healthiest our team of interrogation experts could come up with.” What the hell, I might as well go with it. “Want to see if you can withstand the worst torture the KGB has to offer?”
“Was that like humor but different?” Glen asked, but he was walking to the dining room table.
“What’s humor?” I asked.
“She’s Russian.” Sean said as he helped serve the food. “They aren’t allowed to have a sense of humor.”
“Ukrainian,” I corrected.
