Page 29

TWENTY-NINE

brEAKFAST?

Theo

Driving down Natalie’s street, I was reminded of the first time. When I nearly ran over the toddler on his trike and contemplated turning around.

I think I contemplated turning around every second of that day and considered leaving the house altogether—promise to Ryder be damned—until I saw her.

It had been three miserable days waiting and hoping to hear from either Ryder or Natalie that they’d worked it out. I’d refrained from reaching out again after I’d left Natalie’s house and after I saw that Ryder had read my text. Or at least opened it.

It had been three of the longest days of my life, but I knew I did the right thing.

And I’d woken up that morning, Thanksgiving morning, to a text from Ryder.

Ryder: We should talk. Come over this morning.

I’d jumped out of bed—well, off Robbie’s couch—and gotten dressed faster than I ever had. It was barely eight in the morning, and Ryder hadn’t acknowledged my text letting him know I was on my way. Sent only twenty minutes after his came through.

I parked on the street, and my heart began beating overtime. Natalie’s car was in the driveway next to Ryder’s. They were both here, and I had no idea what I was walking into.

Over the past three days, I’d thought up every worst-case scenario my imagination could conjure. Most of them included Ryder beating the shit out of me and telling me he never wanted to speak to me again. In others, he’d promised to never forgive either of us. In almost all of them, I’d lost not only my best friend but Natalie, too.

With that thought, I began moving. I hopped from the car and strode up the walkway. Bounding up the porch stairs, I didn’t hesitate until I pushed open that bright green front door and heard… laughter ?

I stood in the open doorway, the cold air wafting in behind me, and waited a second until I heard the sound again. Shock was replaced by confusion as Ryder’s deep chuckle was followed by Natalie’s bright laughter. I closed the door behind me with a quiet click and stepped inside.

“Yeah, now turn the heat down and push them around so they don’t stick to the pan,” Natalie instructed. “Ryder, they’re going to burn if you don’t keep moving them.”

“Mom, I know how to make scrambled eggs. I’ve done it a few times, actually.”

They were both in the kitchen so I couldn’t see them, but I imagined the eye roll Natalie would give Ryder for that response.

“You said you were making them the way I make them, so I’m telling you how.”

I continued down the hallway, my steps light and nearly silent against the wood floor. It wasn’t until I was at the bottom of the stairs, the living room to my left and the kitchen opening to my right, that I saw them.

Ryder was standing at the stove, spatula in one hand, a glass of orange juice in the other, and an apron tied around his torso. Hearing me enter the room, he turned, and I wasn’t surprised that printed on the front of his apron was an image of a man—from the shoulders down to his knees—wearing small red swim trunks and flexing his abs.

No, that image didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was the easy smile tilting his lips. The dark circles and irate expression had disappeared. As had the tension lining his shoulders and radiating off him in endless waves. The Ryder standing in front of me was my best friend and the version of him I never thought I’d see again.

“Hey,” he said, waving the spatula like it was a normal day. My confusion kept me silent, as did the torrent of emotion ripping through me.

His smile dropped slightly, and I imagined he was reminded of everything that happened the day before. His carefree, unbothered demeanor was not as easy as it appeared. But he quickly recovered, stepping to the side and revealing a sleepy, yet smiling Natalie.

All the air and energy was siphoned from the room when she looked at me. My breath left me in a quiet whoosh, and my chest expanded, filling with all the warmth and light carried in her eyes.

Her dark hair was braided and fell over one shoulder, and her simple wire glasses were sitting on her nose. She was still in her pajamas—a matching navy-blue set I’d seen her in a time or two, and I knew was one of her favorites. A light flush that was my favorite shade of pink colored her cheeks and complemented her rose-tinted lips.

So quickly that I barely realized it happened, she looked at Ryder, and a silent conversation passed between them. The entire interaction occurred in the few seconds it took me to take a deep breath. Like nothing had happened, Ryder turned back to the stove, and Natalie walked around him.

She rounded the island, one of her hands skating over the butcher block counter as she came to a stop in front of me. I held my breath as she folded her arms over her stomach and pushed to her toes. I didn’t move a millimeter when she pressed a light kiss to my cheek and dropped back down onto her heels.

With one final gentle smile, she continued around me and up the stairs.

“Breakfast will be ready in a few. Do you want orange juice or coffee? I also bought champagne for mimosas. I’m not sure what kind of vodka we have, but a Bloody Mary also sounds good. Maybe we could?—”

He turned from the stove, reaching for some spices on the kitchen island behind him. He must have caught my expression, which I was positive looked as dumbfounded as I felt, because he started backtracking.

“Sorry, I know you’ve been living here for months, so I guess you can help yourself to whatever. I didn’t mean?—”

“What are you doing?” I asked abruptly, cutting off another rambling tangent. My tone was a little harsher than I meant for it to be, but I couldn’t keep the disbelief from my voice. It was like nothing had happened. Like the days before were a cruel nightmare with the way he was acting.

“I’m cooking breakfast,” Ryder said with a shrug.

His nonchalance frustrated me, and I opened my mouth to say as much but caught myself. I ran a hand through my hair and stepped farther into the kitchen, bracing my palms against the countertop and waiting to see what he’d do next since I couldn’t begin to predict my best friend’s next move.

He didn’t do anything, though. He just stared at me, his usual smile in place.

“And acting like nothing happened.”

I didn’t want to bring it up, but I knew if I didn’t, nothing would ever be resolved. And part of me hoped that his attempt to make everything feel normal—or as normal as it could feel—was a sign that he wanted that.

My statement broke him from his elation. His eyes dropped to the spatula in his hand, which he turned over and over again in his palm. It was odd seeing Ryder lost in thought. I didn’t talk much, yet he was never at a loss for words.

He reached for the glass of orange juice in front of him and knocked back the rest of it.

“Not just orange juice, then.”

He chuckled and shook his head as he swallowed. “Gin,” he answered simply, and I nodded.

The anxiety churning in my gut wasn’t something I was used to. But I was ready to be done with it. I wanted to know what he was mulling over so intensely and what the future of our friendship would look like.

And when I finally felt like I couldn’t take his silence a second more, when the anticipation felt like it was going to strangle me, he said, “I read your text.”

That was progress, but it could have also meant a plethora of things. I’d reread the text once that morning on the way over to their house and it was more chaotic and jumbled than I remembered. There wasn’t a single coherent thought or reason.

I nodded, at a loss for words.

“It cleared some things up. It—umm…it made me see things a little differently, too.”

I nodded again. I felt like a bobblehead, but I didn’t have anything to add. My text, although a compilation of unorganized and messy word vomit, had a very clear overall message that was hard to miss.

“I was fucking pissed,” he said, and I nodded.

“I know. And you had— have —every right to be.”

Ryder leaned against the counter next to the stove and folded his arms over his chest. I tried not to stare, but the stupid apron was too much of a distraction. He followed my line of sight and chuckled as he untied it from around his waist, lifted it over his head, and tossed it behind him.

“Now we can talk since you’re not staring at my abs,” he quipped.

“They were a little distracting. Not the best attire for a difficult conversation.”

“No, not a difficult conversation.”

I straightened, miming his posture. “No?”

He shook his head. “I’m still angry,” he said, looking down at his hands as he continued. “And I hate the fact that you both lied to me and snuck around behind my back. It makes everything worse that you’re my best friend and she’s my mom. The two people in the world I was supposed to be able to trust, and you do this? I felt betrayed. But … ”

I held my breath as the single word trailed off, and he lifted his head to meet my eyes.

“I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t make any sense. Because when I think about it, the two of you together…it does make sense. Sort of.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah, but it’s still really fucking weird, and I’m not sure how to handle it. I’ve spent the past few days trying to wrap my head around it, and I’m not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do now.”

I nodded, and I could tell he was contemplating what he wanted to say next, so I stayed quiet.

“I opened your text when you sent it, but I didn’t actually read it until last night. Like I said, after three days of feeling like you both betrayed me, it gave me a new perspective.” He said the words like he wasn’t quite sure if that’s what he meant. “I guess, for some reason, knowing that it’s more than—” He stopped abruptly, waving his hands around. His face screwed up in a disgusted, uncomfortable expression. “I don’t even want to think about it, it’s so gross. But knowing that it’s more than, you know, that .”

Sex, got it.

“That helped. I thought this was just another classic Theo move. No strings, no emotions, no thought of the woman beyond the bedroom. Or the back of the car,” he added. “But it’s not.”

“No,” I agreed quickly. It was strangely easy to admit the realization I’d come to only a few days before and had been slowly understanding for months: she was so much more.

He nodded slowly and for several seconds before he continued. “Your text made that clear.”

“I can’t believe you understood a word of that,” I joked, my laughter still tinged with caution.

“Oh, it was a fucking chaotic, stream-of-consciousness nonsense. But I got the idea.”

“Okay,” I said, at a loss for words and overwhelmingly thankful for a best friend who understood even when he had every reason not to.

He raised his dark brows and narrowed his eyes. “That’s all? Just okay?”

I stuttered out a response. “I just wasn’t expecting to have this conversation. I thought I’d walk in here, you’d tell me what a piece of shit, horrible friend I am—maybe beat the crap out of me—and then tell me to never come back.”

He chuckled and crossed to the bar cart where he retrieved the half-full bottle of gin.

“I’m not a big fighter.”

“Looked like you were ready to beat my ass a couple of days ago,” I said as he found the orange juice and started mixing his cocktail.

“I definitely was, but that’s why I left the police station. If I stood there for another second, I would’ve caved your face in. And that wouldn’t have been good for anyone. It would’ve made a complicated situation even worse.”

He motioned to the drink, silently asking if I wanted one, and I shook my head. I already felt drunk. My best friend was forgiving me. Or at least he was accepting the fact that what I felt for his mom was beyond what he’d initially thought. That was a good first step.

“I wouldn’t have fought back,” I confessed quietly, and he eyed me over his glass as he sipped.

He set it back down with a soft tap and pressed his palms into the wood.

“I know, and that’s another reason I didn’t want to do it. You knew you fucked up, and that made it even harder to be mad at the both of you.”

“I’m sorry,” I finally said out loud. I’d said it several times in my text to him, but it felt good to say it to his face.

“I know.”

I took a breath and tilted my head to the ceiling. Searching for the right words, I went with the unbridled truth.

“I’m sorry for lying and putting our friendship on the line. And I’m sorry for putting you and Natalie in this position, too. The last thing I’d ever want is to drive a wedge between you two. Your relationship…it’s what any mother and son would want. But…” I had to collect myself before I confessed it out loud. “I’m not sorry that it happened. I could never regret her.”

It was the moment of truth. If he couldn’t forgive me for lying to him, then I wasn’t sure how our friendship would make it. And I couldn’t imagine my list getting any smaller.

His smile was tinged with caution, and he took another sip before he said, “Good answer. But umm…it doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly over it. I’m still pissed you lied to me, and honestly, I’m going to be upset for a while. It’s going to take time for me to really get on board with it, but I’m not going to stand in the way.”

Relief, cool and quick, washed over me. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried, but knowing that we’d eventually be okay, I felt the telling prick behind my eyes. It was the most I could ask for.

“Thank you,” I muttered and straightened as I cleared my throat.

“And I will thoroughly beat your ass if you hurt her. You have higher standards now because it’s my mom. You better be fucking perfect. Anything less and murder is on the table.”

“Understood,” I agreed.

We stood there for a moment, neither of us knowing exactly what to do next when Ryder finished off his second drink and pointed to the stairs behind me.

“So, you should go up there, and I’m going to make myself scarce.”

He turned and double-checked that all the burners were off. He then returned the ingredients to the fridge and pantry as I stared at the stairs. Natalie was up there, and based on Ryder’s instructions, she was waiting on me.

“You talked to her?”

“Yeah,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket and grabbing his keys. I figured he had since I walked into them laughing together, but I wanted to be sure. “We talked this morning. That wedge you thought you could drive between us, it’s going to take more than your dumbass for that to happen.”

He knocked his shoulder with mine as he pushed past me. “Now it’s your turn. Go smooth shit over.”

I swallowed around a new emotion sitting in my throat and worked my teeth together. “Did you show her my text?”

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, I didn’t think it was my place. But I did tell her that you texted me, and it helped me see the situation in a different light.”

That made me feel a little better at least. The things I told Ryder were things I wanted to tell Natalie myself, not through her son. I wanted to see her face and gauge her reactions.

“Thanks. I’m gonna—” I said, motioning to the stairs behind me with a thumb over my shoulder.

“Yes, you should do that. Talk and do whatever else—” He cringed like he was in excruciating pain and shivered dramatically. “Okay, yeah, this is weird. I’ll be gone for an hour or two. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

Ryder left, and I didn’t move until I heard his truck start up.

I stared at the dark second floor. There were only thirteen stairs between me and everything I’d ever wanted.