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Wade curses under his breath as he tries to block the sliver of space showing the inside of his apartment.
“Who is it, babe?” a man asks.
I start, blinking at him in complete shock.
His eyes cut back to mine, and with a heavy sigh, Wade closes the door. I can’t make out anything from the murmurs on the other side, but I’m so stunned, I can barely stay upright.
I jump when he finally jerks the door open.
He pauses for a fraction of a second, avoiding eye contact. “Molly, this is Kyrie. Kyrie, Molly.”
A brilliant smile lights the man’s face behind him. Then my eyes flick to the hand affectionately squeezing Wade’s arm. “Oh, please come in! We were just about to have dinner, and I’d be honored to have one of Wade’s friends join us.”
Friends. Yeah, let’s go with that.
My brows hit my hairline when I note his light pink apron. “Oh, um…”
I should really say what I need to and skedaddle, but my brain’s short circuiting and my feet are heavy as cinder blocks when I try to tell them to hightail it out of there.
“It’s no trouble. As always, I made too much for two people,” Kyrie says before waving me inside.
Wade steps aside to let me in, and too curious for my own good, I accept their offer with an awkward, “Sure. Yeah, okay.”
He towers over me, not breaking eye contact until I’ve crossed the threshold. His friend—boyfriend?—scurries into the kitchen to fill three glass bowls with something that looks like gumbo, and I nervously bounce on the balls of my feet.
“Uh. Nice place you’ve got here,” I say, glancing around the room and finding little more than a set of gray couches, a basic entertainment system, and a TV.
Out of all the complexes in town, this one must be the most expensive. Though the interior is stylish and refined, I can’t help but notice the lack of personal touches. No framed pictures of loved ones, no colorful artwork adorning the plain white walls. And not a single book or magazine in sight, creating a soulless atmosphere throughout the entire space.
He gestures for me to have a seat at a simple black table, but I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what the hell is going on here.
“Don’t mind how drab this place is. Wade’s not a man with much taste.” Kyrie winks at me before setting a bowl in front of him. “Well, for decor, that is.”
I can’t help but smile, though Wade looks about ready to crawl out of his skin.
“I don’t waste money on silly things like decorations,” he grumbles from the seat across from me.
“He holds on to all that trust fund money like a pack rat.” Kyrie shakes his head in disapproval. “The poor guy’s always at his parent’s beck and call, never treating himself to anything nice. But I plan on teaching him to prioritize self-care. To indulge in some TLC every now and then—something his parents are absolute shit at.”
I smirk to myself at how much that sentiment reminds me of Rowan.
Wade tightens his grip on the spoon he’s holding. He shoots me a stern look as Kyrie returns to the kitchen counter to grab a bowl and spoon for me. “They wouldn’t know the first thing about caring for someone else, let alone their son.”
That surprises me. Wade always acted like a spoiled rich kid, with parents who gave him anything and everything he ever wanted. But then, I never cared to get to know him personally.
And why would I when he was busy making my life a living hell?
He heads back one last time, and I can feel Wade’s foot tapping under the table. A muscle in his cheek flickers while he stirs his food.
I war with myself in tense silence, thinking of countless ways I could lash out at him while Kyrie is out of earshot, and honestly, he deserves my resentment, my hatred. But as I look at him—nervous, tense, and avoiding my gaze—I see a mirror image of who I’ve been while hiding my truth, and my anger gradually ebbs.
Finally, Kyrie takes his seat and glances between us expectantly.
“This looks incredible, Kyrie. Thank you.” I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the Cajun spices hit my nose.
“Of course!” he says, then shakes his head with a chastising grin. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive my excitement, but it’s been four months of secrecy with this one, and I haven’t met a single one of his friends.”
Wade’s cheeks are beet-red when he takes a bite.
