Episode is perfect. Still on for recording this Friday?
The next four episodes arebanging. I’ve got two bestselling authors lined up, one chaotic influencer who writes fanfic, and a crime fiction editor I’ve been following for years. Sponsors are renewing, listener numbers are creeping up, and, best of all, the podcast finally pays the mortgage.
I stretch, and pad barefoot into the kitchen. The sun’s bright, casting gold over the counter as I pull down two mismatched plates and start setting the table. Just as I reach for the silverware drawer, the front door creaks open.
“You’re early,” I call over my shoulder.
“And starving,” comes a voice that’s not Rafael’s.
I turn just in time to see him toe off his shoes and shoot me a grin. Ethan.
I get another plate, happy to see he looks healthy and serene. We text often, but after having lived together for two whole years, it’s not enough. “Didn’t you move out? You know… for college and stuff?”
“I’m here for lunch,” he says, heading straight for the fridge. “You’ve got podcast money now. That comes with a fully stocked pantry, yeah?”
I roll my eyes and toss a napkin at him. “Help yourself, parasite.”
“Oh, and happy birthday, I guess.”
I smile, pinching his arm.
He grabs a soda and slumps into the chair across from mine, throwing a look at the lasagna on the table. “You didn’t make that, did you?”
“Nope. It’s safe to eat, don’t worry.”
“Sorry. It’s just, I’m still digesting the meatloaf from two months ago.”
Funny. Unfortunately, also true. But I’ve learned my lesson—cooking isn’t for me. “So how’s Jace?” I ask, changing the topic.
“He’s just passed his last exam.” He blushes, but it’s not out of awkwardness or shame—it’s out of joy. He can’twaitto see his boyfriend. “He’ll be back in two weeks’ time.”
“Awww. Look at you. So smitten.”
“Shut up. You should see your face every time Rafael is around. It’s like he shits diamonds.”
I shrug. “I’ll admit I landed a pretty perfect man.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well. So did I.”
The door opens and closes again, and then there’s a groan. “I hope you’re wearing an apron and nothing else, birthday girl!”
Ethan sets down the cracker that was halfway to his mouth. “Ugh,gross. I’m here—Ethan. Remember me?”
Rafael pops his head in. “Oh, yeah…you,” he says, as if he’d forgotten who my brother was. He enters the kitchen and ruffles Ethan’s hair. “I saw your car out front.”
He circles around me and kisses me on the lips before he sits next to me. “How are you doing, Freckles?”
“I’ve missed you,” I say, biting my lip.
About two weeks ago, Rafael got a proper office—a little place close to The Oak. And that was after he had to hire an assistant to help relieve him of admin tasks. I suspect it’s just a matter of time before he will have to bring another PI in. People travel from out of town to see him—the detective who caught the Lit Killer.
The name stuck, of course.
For the past two weeks, I’ve missed him around the house. Working on one side of the couch while I write or read on the other end. Complaining about how I never use the home office he set up for me. Somehow the arguments always ending up with steamy make-out sessions against my rolling ladder.
“I’ve missed you, too.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses the top, and after Ethan’s groan, he sets it back down on the table and turns to the food. “This looks good.”
Ethan shakes his head. “Don’t worry, she didn’t make it.”
