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"Leia, I just—look, you're staying here, and I want you to know that this is your home for as long as you need it to be."
She snorted. "You talk like I have a choice, Reed."
Great, we were on a first-name basis. Very apt.
I pretended like that did not sting. "You can take the room to the right. It has an attached balcony and a washroom."
Without waiting for me to say anything else, she jumped up and scampered to the room.
The door slammed shut like a sudden thunderclap, making me wince.
Boy, she had a good arm. If she was anything like Ellie, she'd be throwing dumbbells at the cupboard soon enough.
But then again, Leia had always been her own little person, never too much Reed, never too much Ellie.
Maybe she was hungry? I could cook her something. Hell, I'd prove that annoying neighbor wrong. Once Leia had a bit of food, she'd feel a lot better about staying here.
I was cooking lasagna for lunch with the boys. I took it out of the oven.
Piping hot, it bubbled invitingly, asking me to grab a spoonful and burn the roof of my mouth. An acceptable deal.
The aromas of slow-cooked and roasted garlic, basil, and oregano wafted through the air, tantalizing my taste buds. I actually felt proud.
I'd learned to make this from a YouTuber—don't judge me, she was a damn good one with all her pasta videos and her vivid voiceovers. Plus, she made the audience feel amazing.
Tender, velvety noodles alternated with the thick, rich Pomodoro sauce and creamy ricotta cheese.
I'd paired it with savory ground beef, cooked till tender and seasoned with Italian spices. The perfect heart to a good pasta dish.
Each slice revealed a bit of everything—the tartness of the sauce, the perfect al dente texture of the pasta, and the creamy richness of the ricotta.
The layer of golden-browned mozzarella on top was the perfect crown.
I cut out a neat little slice and added a side helping of cherry tomatoes, sliced from the middle. And some garlic bread.
Feeling like I was about to present my best effort to the judges ofMasterChef America, I knocked on the door.
"Leia? I made some lunch. Please eat. You must be hungry."
I walked away from the living room so I could give her some privacy. She came out five minutes later, her steps light. She didn't want me to meet her.
Standing behind a shelf, I watched her go to the table, look at the dish, and groan.
"He doesn't know shit about me," she muttered, audible enough for me to hear. "I fucking hate it here."
And with that, she stormed back to her room, but not before she'd broken my heart into a million tiny fragments.
9
Juniper
Why had Juniper Davis been single for the last four years of her life?
If there was ever an article published about me, this was what it would begin with.
It'd totally pull off the curtains on my sad, sexless, loveless life and show me the hundred and one ways I'd broken my mama's heart every time I went home and told her no, I still hadn't found someone.
Did I have something against love?
