Joaquin is at the stove with his back to us, stirring something in a pot. His foot is tapping on the tiled floor as he listens to music with his AirPods in.
Harley walks up to him while I hang back. “J.” He touches his arm. “Emery is here to see you,” he says after Joaquin has popped the pods out of his ear.
Nerves prick at me, and I knot and unknot my fingers as Joaquin glances over his shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I cringe when my voice comes out a little squeaky. Clearing my throat, I shove my nerves aside. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sure.” He offers me a sad smile.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Harley says, backing out of the kitchen. “Nice to meet you, Emery.”
“You too,” I say, smiling as he exits the room.
“Are you hungry?” Joaquin asks.
“I could eat,” I lie. My stomach is tied into knots, and I doubt I can force much down. But it’ll give us something to do while we thrash this out.
“It’s just pasta with sauce. Nothing special.” He shrugs.
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
“Take a stool.” He jerks his head at the island unit, and I claim one of the stools, looking around the homey kitchen as I try to distract myself from my anxiety.
Tense silence fills the gap between us as he plates up some pasta with sauce, grating parmesan on top. He adds a couple pieces of garlic bread from the oven to each plate before walking toward me.
He slides a plate in front of me before setting his down beside me. “What would you like to drink? We have water, soda, juice, or beer or wine.”
“Water is good. Thanks.”
Gawd, this is so awkward and lacking the normal easy flirty nature of our previous conversations.
He pours two glasses of water and comes to sit beside me, sliding some silverware toward me.
I take a couple of bites, enjoying the simplicity of the dish. “This is good,” I say after chewing.
“I’m no culinary expert, but I can do the basics well.”
We eat in more silence until I can’t stand it any longer. I set my fork and spoon down and take a sip of water before I turn to face him. He’s so close, and those little amber flecks in his eyes make an appearance to add to my torment. “This is so awkward.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, it is.”
“I’m really sorry, J. I didn’t know and?—”
“It’s cool, Emmie. Don’t sweat it.” He shrugs, looking completely unruffled while I’m sitting here on edge. “What we had was only casual, and we both knew it was going nowhere.”
I blink repeatedly because that’s not really what he led me to believe. I’m not sure if it’s the truth or if he’s just saying that now to let me off the hook, but either way, I’m grateful.
“I was honest when I said I didn’t want a relationship, but it wasn’t the complete truth.”
“You’re still hung up on Zayn,” he says, heaving a sigh.
“Yes. I never really got over him.”
“I know what he did. He was a total ass to you.” A muscle grinds in his jaw, and I think he’s more worked up than he wants me to believe.
“He was, and I don’t know if I can forgive him, but the heart wants who it wants. If my head was ruling me, it’d be a different story.”
His jaw pulls taut before he visibly relaxes. “I was an ass to you too.” He looks a little sheepish. “I’m, agh, sorry if the twins thing upset you.”
