AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The warm, inviting smell of garlic and rosemary floats through the air, filling the kitchen and conjuring up memories of my childhood and dinners at home. I can’t help but smile as I watch Derek move from one task to the next while bossing Finn around.
“We could’ve cooked something more elaborate than pasta,” Finn calls out from across the counter as he chops vegetables for the salad.
Derek’s tall frame moves to an elegant grace as he stirs the pot on the stove. His eyes move toward Finn. “Piper loves Italian food,” Derek responds with a knowing smirk.
I smile at the memory of Mrs. Amato’s cooking. “Among other things, I add. But I really miss Mrs. Amato’s food,” I lament with nostalgia.
Derek nods in agreement. “Her cannelloni are the best.”
“Who is Mrs. Amato?” Finn asks curiously.
“My neighbor,” Derek replies with a fondness in his voice. “She always makes extra food and either brings it to the practice or leaves it outside my door so that we can have a homemade meal.”
Finn looks up at me and smiles, his gray eyes twinkling in the warm light of the kitchen. “Let me guess, you help her with groceries and crossing the street.”
I shrug, unable to deny it. Finn rolls his eyes and goes back to chopping the vegetables on the cutting board. His strong arms expertly moving up and down with precision, slicing and dicing with skillful ease. It’s good to know that he still loves the kitchen and enjoys cooking. It is beautiful to witness that a part of him is still alive.
On the other side of the kitchen, Derek is kneading fresh pasta dough on the kitchen island. I can’t believe he’s preparing it from scratch, but I guess Mrs. Amato’s lessons are paying off.
It’s a treat to watch the two men cook, but also their relationship intrigues me. There’s an undeniable tension between them that seems to thicken each time they exchange glances.
“Check on the potatoes,” Finn says.
Derek goes to the oven, opens the door, and sighs. “Ten more minutes.”
“The last time you focused on the timer, they burned,” Finn protests.
With a smirk, Derek crosses the room and stops just short of Finn’s side, barely close enough to brush his fingertips over his forearm. His lips move inaudibly, prompting Finn to reply with a shake of his head and a playful smirk of his own. A smirk. In the few times I’ve seen Finn, I’ve never seen him this relaxed and content.
Derek pulls away, returning to the kitchen island, where he carefully rolls out the dough. The stolen glances between them and the way they touch each other casually, like an old couple, makes me wonder about them. Are they together? No, that’s impossible. I’m sure Derek would have told me, but maybe he’s in love with Finn?
The vibrant energy in the kitchen pushes away my curiosity and I keep watching the two men moving through the space in tandem. Their movements are in perfect sync like they’ve done this for their entire life. I feel like a third wheel when Derek looks up at Finn, meeting his gaze and smiling at him.
Though I’m an outsider, I don’t feel jealous, but happy for them.
They continue working in unison. Neither one of them speak, but they know what the other is doing.
Once we’re sitting down at the table and begin to eat the spaghetti, I can’t help but moan. It’s delicious, and I hate to admit that even the salad is good.
“That good, huh?” Derek asks.
“It’s amazing,” I concede.
“You two make a great…” I want to say ‘couple,’ but I know that’s not right. Finn is married and has a wife, but what about Derek?
My heart hurts for him and then for me. Unrequited love sucks. But maybe for tonight we can pretend that this kitchen isn’t just a place where we can make food but connect and find comfort in each other.
* * *
After dinner,Finn excuses himself to take an important call in the home office. Derek takes me to the covered patio. There’s a soft glow from a large television, and a fire crackles from the stone fireplace. Memories of the nights we used to spend together come flooding back, and I can’t help but ask, “Have you been to the roof?”
Derek nods absently, filling up my glass of wine. “I go often, in hopes that you’ll appear, but knowing it’ll never happen.”
We both sit in silence for a moment, unable to form any words that can possibly bridge the gap between us. The air between us feels heavy with unsaid words, and I can’t help but wonder if we’ll ever recover our friendship.
Has anyone taken my place? Does he feel even a fraction of the emptiness I feel? Part of me feels envious that he might’ve moved on and left me behind. I’m jealous of his friendship with Finn.
My heart aches with envy and sadness—not because I don’t want him to find love, but because I miss our special bond. Like the kind of bond he has with Finn. Then there’s him, the guy who can’t remember I was once the love of his life.
