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He nods slowly.
Eyes wide, I try to go back to that moment, remembering how she was, how he was the next morning when he opened it. He’d thrown up and blamed it on the alcohol, and… “Oh, God, Connor. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You couldn’t have known, and I didn’t want you to.”
“Why?” I breathe out.
“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice cracking. “It just felt like… too much. We were in such a good place, and I didn’t want her coming back and taking that away from me.”
My head dips forward, my heart aching for him. And sure, I could relive every moment of the past, redirect every second conversation so that we didn’t end up where we were, but that would be pointless, and so I push aside our regrets and ask, stumbling over my words, “Do you… do you guys still talk or…?”
He’s quick to shake his head as he gets comfortable leaning against the counter. One hand on my hip, the other wrapped around my waist, he responds, “Not even a little bit.”
I pout, my hands flat on his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” he says, so sure of himself. “She’s just as disappointing now as she was back then.”
“Did you get the answers you were looking for?”
He nods, clears his throat.
I lean closer to him.
He says, “She um… she left me in the car as revenge because my dad was having an emotional affair at the time…”
My eyes widen.
“With another man.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Your dad’s gay?”
“Yeah, he is,” he says, and I don’t know how he can fit so much pride in such a small smile. “He’s actually with the guy from back then.” He reaches up, fingers a strand of hair that’s fallen across my shoulder. He fixes his stare there, as he twirls it around his finger. “His name’s Michael. I like him a lot. He’s a great guy, and he’s good to my dad. But… they held on to those feelings and kept quiet for fifteen years, Ava…”
“That’s a long time,” I struggle to say, feeling the intensity between us growing.
“I know, right? But now they’re happy, and they’re free, and they’re—”
He stops there, suddenly, and I look up at him, my eyes pleading for him to continue.
He releases my hair, glides his palm across my shoulder to my nape. “Ava, I don’t want to hold on to my feelings for fifteen—” The smoke alarm goes off, and he gently moves me to the side, grabbing a dish towel on the way to the oven. It’s smoking, and how the hell did I not see it? Smell it? Magic. I was so lost, drowning in his magic, that nothing else mattered. He lowers the oven door, jerking back when the heat emits. And then he waves the cloth above him, in front of the smoke alarm, waiting for the air to clear.
It starts as a giggle, this feeling that takes over me, and ends in all-out, carefree laughter that has him doing the same. He pulls out the tray of vegetables that was supposed to go with the steak. It’s charcoal. He laughs harder, turning to me. “I’d still eat it just because you made it.”
“I wouldn’t make you,” I say through a giggle. “We still have the steak and the salad. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He turns back to the oven, then to me. “How did we not smell that?”
I mouth, my smile wide, my eyes on his, “Magic.”
He shakes his head. “Do you want to just order in? Save the steaks for tomorrow?”
“You’re coming over tomorrow?”
He smirks. “I could have steak for breakfast.”
“Connor!” I gasp. “Who says you’re staying the night?”
His expression falls. “I mean, I was talking about in general because I love steak… but hey, if you’re offering...”
