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She nods, biting back a smile. “‘I love you’ in Sindarin. I wanted to do something special with him—something to bind us together before things change. I know we have two more semesters, but still, our lives are going to be a lot different when he’s in the NHL.”
I swallow. Penny is lucky to be so invested in Cooper’s passion. She was a serious athlete herself, so she knows what it takes, and her father is Cooper’s coach, so there’s no way she’s surprised by the level of commitment. I’m sure she’s going to have no problem working her life around his career, just like Sebastian’s mother did for his father. She’s even luckier that she’s a writer. She can bring her future career anywhere. If Sebastian and I tried to make a relationship work while he was playing baseball and I was in a graduate program, we’d never see each other. Forget pining over him during a three-day jaunt to Albany. I’d be alone and guilty, instead of just alone.
I manage a smile. “It’s beautiful, Pen.”
“Are you sure that you and Seb—”
I stand, smoothing my skirt. “Let me see if he needs help with dinner. I think he planned on making something for us.”
“You cook with him?” she calls as I hurry downstairs. “I thought you hated cooking!”
I bite my lip as I resist the urge to reply. When Penny strong-armed me upstairs for our little chat, Cooper and Sebastian were in the living room, sitting across from each other awkwardly. Now, I hear voices coming from the kitchen.
I’m about to tiptoe upstairs when I hear Cooper say my name.
32
SEBASTIAN
“You could have givenme a head’s up, you know,” Cooper says. He moves away from the refrigerator, beer in hand, so I can get out the ingredients I’ll need for spaghetti carbonara. It’s a little early to start cooking dinner, especially a pasta dish that comes together in less than half an hour, but anything to avoid meeting my brother’s eyes. I’m not necessarily embarrassed by what he walked in on—although I do feel bad for Mia—but I didn’t plan to broach the subject of getting involved with her again likethis. “It’s not like Iwantedto see her tits.”
I drag my hand over my face. “Don’t talk about her tits.”
He snorts. “I’m not. I’m not going to say a fucking word, ever, about my girlfriend’s best friend’s rack. Although I guess now we’re even.”
“I have tried very hard to erase the image of you and Penny from my mind.”
“You do have a bedroom in this house, you know.”
“Like that stopped you before.” I grab a skillet and slam it on top of the stove. “You got back earlier than we expected.”
When it was just the two of us living here, it was easy to forget about normal life. I could pretend that our playing house would go on forever. I’ve spent the last few days thinking about the moment I woke up from that nightmare. The relief I felt when I saw her in bed with me, safe and beautiful in the moonlight, settled something deep and unendingly restless in my chest. I haven’t been able to focus on a fucking thing but that feeling. I missed her when I was on the road trip. Our phone call was nice, but I wish I hadn’t needed to leave in the first place, right before normal life came crashing in again in the form of my brother.
He settles atop one of the kitchen stools and leans his elbows on the counter. “So, you were going to lie to me.”
I add a couple tablespoons of olive oil and butter to the skillet, turning up the heat. “What? No.”
“Because of her?”
“It’s just not how I would have wanted you to find out, dumbass.”
He takes a sip of beer. “What is this, anyway? Are you together?”
I can’t meet his eyes right now. I cut an onion in half and peel away the skin. The back of my neck feels hot. “No.”
“So, what was that?” he says. “A bit of casual face-sucking?”
“You did plenty of that before you met Penny.”
He puts his hands up. “I’m not judging what you were doing. Just who you were doing it with.”
“You know her.”
“Yeah, exactly. I know a lot about her. For example, that she walked out on you. But I don’t know a thing about that whole fucking situation except for the fact that I’ve never seen you that upset over a girl, and now what? You’re going back for more?”
I focus on dicing the onion. When it’s ready to go, I move on to the nice slab of pancetta I picked up at the grocery store today. When I planned this meal earlier, I envisioned cooking it with Mia, then settling down at the table, the four of us, to hear about the road trip. I have a nice bottle of Sancerre chilling in the fridge, plus red velvet cupcakes from the bakery in town. I was prepared to put on a show—just friends, nothing more—like we did for months.
Instead, the whole thing is out in the open, and I still don’t know why Mia ghosted me in the first place.
