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As good as what I made?I grilled chicken and scrambled eggs. The scent of food finally permeated my foggy thoughts. He’d made some kind of chili, I realized and sniffed again. “Oh, I love chili.”
“That’s good because it’s one of two things I make.” He ladled some into a bowl for me and then got some for himself. As I watched, he poured a glass of wine. Michael had great hands. I’d always thought so.
Then it dawned on me that he absolutely should not be drinking.
“Not on painkillers!”
He nodded. “Not drinking it. You are. I’ll stick with water, but you have to take off some stress, and I know how you love red wine.”
I did. All my sisters shared that enjoyment, which was great, since Layla and her husband became vintners. Or maybe it was more accurate to say they owned the vineyard? I never actually saw Layla make any wine, come to think of it.
“I don’t think I should drink alone. That feels…icky.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be. But, having said that, you’re not alone. I’m here. You’re drinking in the presence of another person, if it’s a comfort, but I’m not an alcohol pusher. If you don’t want it, don’t have it.”
I did want it. I pulled the glass over, swirled it, then took a sip. “This isn’t Zeke’s wine.”
“I don’t keep it in the house. I like it, but I have a long-standing collection. Actually, your father taught me about wine. That is something he knows about that we can’t criticize him for, at least.” He smiled at me. “And I’m on painkillers, so it’s like drinking.”
I giggled then took a small taste of the soup. His chili had just the right amount of spice, and I dug in happily. Between greedy bites, I asked him, “Are you actually on painkillers? Did you take them?”
He smirked at me, a spoonful of chili paused on the way to his sensuous lips. “Maybe.”
“You’re terrible about taking your meds.”
He eyed me. “As the doctor told me today.”
I was glad he had spoken to one. I ate another bite before I asked, “Did you call?”
“He came over.” He continued to eat. “You didn’t notice? Doorbell. Doctor coming in? None of it?”
Wow. It was a bad one today. Usually, I was messing with numbers when I zoned out. Today, it was just the endlesspossibility of unemployment. “No.” I looked down. “I’m weird. I know that you know us, that you’ve spent a lot of time with us, and that means you really do know things that others will never know. But I think you don’t understand the extent that I’m different.”
“You’re notweird. I don’t love that word. We’ll come up with another one. You’re unique.” He shook his head. “I know that you get lost in things sometimes. It’s why I came to get you for dinner and how I noticed you were particularly unhappy in whatever you were thinking about. But that’s okay, you can give that all to me.”
I smiled at him, amused at the idea. The chili was really good, and I could eat it every day. There were certain foods I felt that way about. Michael’s chili made it on the list along with baked ziti. “You can’t really give someone your problems.”
“Why not? Give them to me, and I’ll worry about them for you. They’ll still exist, but you can move past worrying about them. You’ll figure out what to do better if you’re not obsessing, or at least that’s how it works for me.”
He might have a point, even if I’d never considered giving someone my problems before. “Do you have anything you’re worrying about, Michael? I mean…other than killing Russian mobsters.”
His smile was slow. “I have something on my mind, but it’s nothing I need to turn over right now. I’ll let you know if I could use help, I promise.” He finished his chili and set his spoon in the bowl. “There is something I have to tell you.”
Well, that doesn’t sound good.Instead of admitting to the dread that balled in my stomach, I joked by asking sweetly, “The doctor said you were a total ass to leave the hospital early, so now you have to go back?”
He threw his head back and laughed. Pleasure flushed my cheeks because he got my joke.At least he isn’tlaughing likethat at a statement I made that was meant to be serious.“No, nothing like that. Besides, I am the one who hired the doctor, so I think he’d find a better way to tell me I’m a jackass. More polite, at least, if not better. That was pretty good. No, I need to confess my mother and father are on their way here. In fact, they’ll be here any minute. Surprise!”
I dropped my spoon, my eyes wide. “What?”
“Yeah, they’re on their way. They always come by when I’m in town for a quick hello. That’s how they put it,always. They’ll be here, and then they’ll leave.” He shrugged and then winced at the motion on his wounded shoulder. I cringed in sympathy. He continued. “I tell them when I come into town, because if I don’t and they hear it from someone else first… My mother has spies everywhere, she could have been in my business. Anyway, if they hear it from someone else first, it turns into a thing because I didn’t tell them. To avoid that, I text them when I arrive. They come, visit a few minutes, and we get it over with.”
I bit my lip. Did he even realize how sweet it was that they wanted to see him so much? Then again, I didn’t really get how functional families worked—I’d only ever lived dysfunctional. I decided to confess as much, so I said, “I don’t know what that’s like. Having people who always want to see you when you’re around? That’s amazing, actually. I guess I have that with my sisters.” I looked down at myself, remembering the t-shirt and shorts. “Am I dressed okay? I don’t really have much nicer here.”
“You’re great. They’re not fancy people. But I realized I should probably tell you more about them. If nothing else, it will help you understand any undertones you’re going to feel. I know how you like to watch people. And your sisters always want to see you, by the way. No one would call your relationship with them dysfunctional.”
I tilted my head dismissively, but he wasn’t wrong. They loved me but they were busy. They had husbands and multiplebabies. They’d started families of their own, which left me out—a strange sensation after beingone of threefor my whole life. Of course they made the time to see me, if I was near where they were traveling, which I rarely was, but I never thought either of them would want to see meallof the time.
Michael’s parents were so interested in him, they had a whole network of people watching out for him. It charmed me, so I said, “Okay.”
