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“It’s so good,” she tells me, taking a bite herself. I focus on the bowl between us instead of her. “You really can’t cook anything else?”
I shrug, my heart beating a little too quickly. “My nan bought me a cookbook before I left for uni.”
Can she tell?
Can she hear my fucking heart right now?
“What was it? A thousand ways to cook pasta?”
I look up as she quirks a mocking brow, taking another mouthful.
“One hundred, you smart-ass.” I laugh, shaking my head.Snap out of it, Sullivan.“I became a pasta king in halls.”
She chuckles and reaches for her wine. “I love that. So you’re close with your nan?”
“No,” I say, my chest growing a little tighter. “She passed away.”
“Shit, Lance, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s fine,” I shake my head, reassuring her. “It’s fine.”
“I don’t have any living grandparents. I don’t remember them either. Dad’s parents both died young, in their late sixties and seventies. And my mum’s parents didn’t like my dad.” She sips her wine and looks up at me. “At all. Dad was five years older than Mum, and they thought he was manipulating her. They lived in the north and never reached out after she moved away.”
“So, it’s just you, Mase and your dad?”
She nods, her eyes sparkling as she stares through me. “You told me everything changed when your dad passed away, are you not close with your family?”
I look down at her, brown eyes big and waiting. Sharing this kind of thing with her feels easier than I ever expected. “Not as close as I’d like.”
With a sad smile, she picks up more pasta and holds it up to me. “Functional families are entirely overrated, in my opinion.”
I smile at that. Then I take the wine from her hand and take a sip, changing the subject. “How are you feeling now?”
“I feel fine. Just a little mortified that I made such a show of myself in the pharmacy.” She dips her head, and I hate that I can’t see her face fully. “Did Elliot tell Mason?”
My jaw clenches, but I shake my head. “No. He didn’t think it was necessary. Said you need to call him when you wake up, though.”
“Why does that piss you off?”
“If I were Mason, I’d want to know. Wouldn’t you?” If Mason wasn’t so wrapped up in Nina and whisking her away for the weekend, he’d be more aware that his sister needs him here.
Her features are soft as she turns in my lap, her knee bending to lie across my groin as her other leg hangs. “I don’t know. Mase hasn’t felt the need to tell me a thing in almost fifteen years.” She sighs. “Dad had an appointment at the hospital on Wednesday afternoon. They were told he needs a liver transplant. I guess Mase is pretty twisted up over it.”
Is that why she needed to switch off?
“And you? How doyoufeel about it?”
She toys with a button on my shirt, then visibly relaxes, taking the wineglass back and placing it with the bowl on the dresser. “Maybe a little numb. I feel like I’ve not let my feet touch the ground since I got home yesterday morning. I’m scared that if I do, I might… I don’t know… break.”
“I’m sorry, Scarlet.”
“Don’t be. You’re actually the first person who’s bothered to ask how I’m doing.” She leans into me a little closer. “I appreciate that.”
Our gazes are fixed, the air around us charged. It’s as if, in this moment, we’re both the ink and the paper, so close to something unwritten we’re tainted by the unknown, yet it’s clear as fucking day that I should kiss her.
“I don’t tend to kiss on first dates,” she tells me, confirming my thoughts.
“I don’t normally offer up dates.” I give her the little snippet too easily. If I hold any cards, then she’s quickly stealing them one by one.
