“I have something to ask you,” he says as his car idles at the curb in front of my apartment building.
“Ask away,” I tuck my hair behind my ears as I look at him.
“Could I cook dinner for you Saturday night at my place?”
My eyes widen, and air punches from my lungs.
“Not like a date,” he rushes to reassure me. “I have something I want to tell you about me. Something no one else knows but my sisters, Law, and Tate.” He briefly mentioned Tate before. He’s a guy he befriended in Cornell. Some bigshot New York trader, and his only other friend besides his childhood friend.
“Is this about your mom?” I blurt without thinking.
Pain flares in his eyes, and I curse myself for raising the topic. He’s closed off when it comes to his mother. I know there is a story behind her passing, and I hope one day he’ll share it with me. Until then, I will not force it. I lean across the console and pat his hand. “I’m sorry.”
His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Don’t apologize. Mom is a tough subject for me to discuss. Maybe someday.”
He averts his eyes as I thread my fingers through his and squeeze his large hand. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain, and I understand. I’m reluctant to talk about my dad.” Beck is aware of the backstory, but I only told him recently. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.” His skin is warm, and his palm is smooth, unlike Garrick’s hands with calluses from his guitar playing. The instant that thought lands in my mind I retract my hand, tucking it under my thigh.
“Thanks,” he says, wearing a small frown. “It’s nothing personal. If I was going to talk to anyone about it, I’d talk to you, but I’ve spent years trying to block it out because it hurts so much.”
“You don’t need to explain, Beck, and it’s fine. Honestly.”
“What I want to tell you is something entirely different, and it’s easier for me to show you. Hence the dinner invitation. I assure you it’s innocent. It’s just one friend cooking for another. I thought I might wow you with my French cookery skills.”
“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
He laughs. “I’m actually lying. I can only cook two French dishes. One iscroque monsieur, which is basically just a grilled ham and cheese, and the other isboeuf bourguignonwhich is a classic beef stew anyone could make with their eyes closed.”
“Not anyone. I bet Monica could butcher the shit out of it with her eyes open.”
Beck cracks up laughing.
“You think I’m joking, but one day you’ll see.”
“I love your family.” A genuine smile ghosts over his face. “And I’m definitely taking Nana up on her dinner offer. Esther and Sarah will be home over summer break, and I’ll pin them to a date.”
“Nana will love that. She loves entertaining guests. But back to you. How did you learn to cook? Was it in France?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Neither my mom norgrand-méretaught me any cooking skills. We mostly helped around the farm at times when we weren’t trying to drown one another in the pool or racing around the property playing hide and seek. Louis, our family chef, taught me how to cook on the sly. Father would not have approved.”
“You seem very inventive when it comes to sneaking stuff past your father.”
“I’ve had to be. Otherwise, my life would be a misery.”
“I already dislike your father, and I haven’t even met him.”
“Say a prayer you never do.” A shudder works its way through him. “I don’t want you anywhere near that man.”
I’m not quite sure what that means, and I don’t want to find out. “Okay, so what time do you want me to come over on Saturday? And should I bring anything?”
“Eight and just bring your beautiful self.”
* * *
My cell is vibrating on my bedside table when I emerge from my steam-filled bathroom, swaddled in a large fluffy white towel with another smaller one wrapped around my head. Spotting Ellen’s laughing face staring at me from the screen, I scoop it up and swipe my finger to answer her call before it stops ringing. “Hey, boo,” I say, putting it on speaker and placing it carefully on the pillow while I dry myself. “How are things?”
“Exhausting.” Her tired sigh filters through the line. “I have three major assignments to finish in two weeks, and I’m panicking I won’t get them all done in time.”
“Keep the faith. You’ll knock them out. Remember you’re on the home stretch now.”
