Page 130 of That Fake Feeling

Itickle my fingers down his spine. “Spoilsport.”

Hesquirms against my hand and goes back to stirring the pot.

Ireach into the cupboard for a couple of glasses. “Thatsmells so good.”

“Yeah, it’s a tip fromOwen.”

Owenis a cousin from theCaliforniaside of theDashwoodfamily.He’sbusiness partners withElliotand splits his time between their company’sSanFranciscooffice and his fiancée’s place nearConnor’sparents.

“You’llbe rivaling him as the cook of the family before long.Anyway, how was class this morning?”

Hepulls a face. “Itwas life drawing.Isuck at life drawing.”

Islide a glass of wine toward him. “Haveyou already forgotten you promised me you’d stop saying that you suck at things?”

“Okay.Well, it’s an area whereIcould use some improvement.Isthat better?”

“It’sa start.”

“Couldyou grab some bowls, please?Thisis ready.”

Iplace two white bowls on the counter next to the stove.

“ThenIspent all afternoon here,” he says. “Workingon the big abstract thingIstarted a couple of days ago.That’sgoing much better.”

Hecarefully ladles out the delicious-looking beany, vegetable-y, pasta-y goodness.

Ipick up our glasses and take them over to the table by the windows overlooking the patio.Hefollows me with the bowls, mouthwatering steam wafting from them.

Hesits down opposite me, and holds up his glass for us to clink.

Justas they are about to touch,Connor’sphone rattles on the kitchen island.

“Cheers.”Hetakes a sip. “Whoeverthat is can wait.”

Itstops buzzing and is immediately followed by the chime of a video call.

“Someone’simpatient,”Itell him, blowing on my forkful of impending deliciousness. “Maybeit’s important.”

Hisshoulders slump as he drops his fork into his bowl and gets up from the table. “There’llbe trouble if it isn’t.”

Helooks at the phone. “It’sWalker.”

Heswipes to answer. “Thisbetter be good,Walk,” he says holding the phone in front of his face. “Ijust sat down for a delicious meal, cooked by my own fair hands for my beautiful girlfriend.”

“ThankGodyou picked up.”Walkersounds concerned.

Connorfurrows his brow at the screen. “Areyou all right?Youlook a bit panicked.”

“Couldyou go over to my place and letEmilyin?”

EmilyisWalker’sbest friend and business partner.

“Rightnow?”Connorasks, shooting a quick look at our food.

“Yeah.I’minTexas.”

“Whatthe fuck are you doing inTexas?”