“He said yes, he remembers,” Jake relayed, and Rye leaned up against him more, fighting as his mind wanted to become anxious. He could already feel the fear building up as he thought about staying home, alone, and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing the panic away.
His mom continued, but he heard the hesitation in her voice. “I’d love to go. It’s been years since I’ve been to see the symphony play, but, sweetie, I won’t if you’re not okay with it. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but Jake, you could stay in our spare room, or...”
An image popped into Rye’s head—Jake trying to get comfortable on thetinybed in thetinyspare room, which was almost more of an oversized closet. Jake was so tall and big, and that bed... it might have been Rye’s when he was a kid, he couldn’t really remember. But now, as an adult—and asmalladult at that—Rye could barely even fit on it. He’d had to sleep on it once, and it had been awful. There was no way Jake could fit. He shook his head and glanced up at Jake, whose eyes looked amused.
“We’ll figure something out?” Jake asked quietly, tightening his arm around Rye in a comforting gesture, and Rye nodded, hoping he’d be able to talk again later, after they got back out to the car. It would make much more sense for Rye to just stay in the extra bedroom at Jake’s house overnight, if Jake didn’t mind.
And Rye was pretty sure Jake wouldn’t mind.
“Rye says it’s okay, you can go. I’ll stay with him wherever it works best.”
“Oh goodness, thank you. Are you both sure? I don’t want to upset any plans or anything.”
Rye nodded again, and Jake squeezed his shoulder gently.
“We’re sure, yeah.”
“Okay, wonderful. Thank you. I’m excited. Sooooo . . .”
His mom chatted for a few more minutes, explaining her plans for the evening and that she’d be back the following afternoon. And Rye distracted himself by continuing through the store to pick up the rest of the ingredients they needed. Jake followed, keeping his hand on Rye’s back the whole time, as though he knew Rye needed the extra support.
Finally, his mom said goodbye, made Rye promise he’d text later, and hung up, and Rye took his phone back from Jake with a tight smile. He quickly sent her a brief text, as he usually did when they communicated over the phone through Jake like this.
Rye (1:27 p.m.):Love you, Mom! I hope you have a wonderful time
Rye (1:27 p.m.):Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine
And, like always, he followed up his last text with a string of emojis—all hearts and smiling faces—because he knew it would make his mom smile.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jake
Jakesniffledandblinkedback tears, trying his best to ignore the sting in his eyes. A soft laugh from next to him had him shaking his head.
“I’m so glad you find my suffering funny,” he joked, setting the knife he’d been using down on the cutting board next to a heap of diced onion.
“I’m so glad you like me so much.” Rye shifted closer for half a second, bumping his shoulder into Jake’s arm, and Jake grinned and glanced down at Rye.
“Enough to chop onions for you.”
“Mm-hmm.” Deep blue eyes looked up at him, bright and eager. And beautiful. So beautiful.
Jake’s heart had been doing funny things all afternoon, since the moment he’d stepped into the bookstore and seen Rye talking with the small group of children. And then again in the office and then again standing outside the bookstore in the rain, when Rye’s gaze had darted down to Jake’s lips for that single, brief second.
And again now. In fact, now, Jake’s heart was thrumming wildly, and he couldn’t look away. Rye’s eyes held him, captivated him, and he wished so much that his hands weren’t covered in... onion.
He blinked and sucked in a breath before finally tearing his eyes away. “So, uh, the onions?”
“Right into the pan here with the chicken,” Rye instructed.
Jake scooped up the chopped onions and added them to the pan. Then he washed his hands, the cutting board, and the few other dishes they’d already dirtied while Rye continued cooking. When Jake was finished, he leaned against the counter, watching as Rye removed the chicken to a platter, added a big, heaping tablespoon of Hungarian sweet paprika to the pan, mixed in chicken broth and tomato paste, and seasoned the sauce with salt and pepper. He then added the chicken back into the pan and reduced the heat to a simmer.
And he had this air of confidence about him as he worked. He looked so comfortable and so sure of himself. It made Jake’s heart soar.
Jake pushed himself away from the counter and turned so he could slip his arm around Rye’s waist, slowly and carefully, as always. When his hand settled on Rye’s hip, Rye sighed—the sound happy and content—and leaned into him.
“So, it’s got about fifteen more minutes to cook, and the rice should be done by then. We just need to make the cucumber salad and then that’s it.” Rye twisted around in Jake’s arms and looked up at him with those big blue eyes, one hand coming to settle right in the center of Jake’s chest. And he was smiling lightly, a natural, easy smile.
