“What’s going on with you two?” he asked, cocking his head and reminding me of a bird with the way he moved and blinked at me. “Don’t fall for his bullshit, Nora. He’s bad news.”
A knock sounded on the door, and I called out, “Come in.”
Sebastian stuck his head in, his eyes narrowing when he saw Clive. “Let’s go.”
I sprinted past Clive and nearly collided with Sebastian in my haste. He took my hand and held it all the way out to his bike.
“See you tomorrow,” Sebastian called out on his way past the bar. I waved goodbye, not trusting my voice to say anything yet.
While I had an unhealthy obsession with riding on Sebastian’s bike, tonight I wished we’d taken my car. But the ride would be short, and I just had to hold on enough not to fall off. I grumbled under my breath when I swung my leg over the seat, the movement awkward and stiff thanks to my earlier workout.
“Are you hurt?” Sebastian asked, turning his head back to where I was getting comfortable on the seat.
“Just sore. Long night.”
He did his broody hot guy stare for another few seconds before turning around and starting the engine. I wound my arms around him and sank against his back. I usually sat close, but tonight I fused myself to him.
He tensed for a moment but relaxed once it became clear that was how I intended to stay for the ride home. I treasured each time I was on the bike with him. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much I loved feeling his abs under my hands and how content I was, laying my head against his back and letting the wind take away my worries.
I really needed to get my head checked, because this was turning into a case of Stockholm syndrome.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“There’s a hole in my donut,” Luca wailed, staring at the donut on his plate.
We were eating dinner, and the kids had moved on to dessert. Malena and Felix had come over, and I was grateful for the distraction.
I grabbed a banana and broke off a piece big enough to fit in the hole. I pulled Luca’s plate over and stuffed the banana in it, making sure it was somewhat even with the donut, and pushed the plate back in front of him.
He looked at it for a second before taking a tentative bite.
“I take it this has happened before?” Malena asked, holding a hand over her mouth, covering up a laugh.
“Didn’t you think there was a reason I told you not to get donuts?” I said, shooting laser beams at her. When she’d asked me what to bring for dessert, I’d told her anything but donuts.
“I just thought you were on some diet. It seemed like a good idea to get the one thing you didn’t want.”
I face-palmed with my middle finger out. “You are a cruel, cruel friend.”
She grinned and took another bite of her udon. “The food is amazing as usual,” she said, grinning at me, not sorry at all for causing Luca’s meltdown.
Making those dishes brought up memories of my mother. She’d been tireless in her efforts of teaching me how to cook traditional Japanese food. For some reasons only known to her it was the one thing she taught me.
Food had been our way of connecting. We had nothing else in common but our love for cooking. The memories were bittersweet since cooking with her was something I’d always looked forward to when I was younger. At the same time, thinking of my mom reminded me how quickly she cut ties when I was pregnant with Luca.
My mother was a proud woman, and she didn’t accept anything less than perfection. My pregnancy had brought shame to the family.
I hadn’t seen them since before Luca was born. And I had little hope that my kids would ever meet their grandparents. But thinking about the past wasn’t going to fix my present. My personal motto was to look forward and concentrate on the things in life I had control over.
“I also made toscakaka,” I said. It was the one thing I could make that was Swedish. The almond caramel cake was my father’s favorite dish, and I’d made it my mission to perfect it when I was still living at home. The kids didn’t like it which was why I’d asked Malena to bring dessert with her as well since the only reason I made the cake in the first place was because she loved it so much.
Her face lit up when I mentioned the cake. “I knew you loved me.”
“Of course I do, you fool. BFFs until the bitter end.”
We ate our cake while the kids played. As soon as we put our spoons down, Malena asked, “So you gonna tell me why you’ve been fidgeting all night?”
“I’m not fidgeting,” I said, knowing full well that my limbs had been moving the whole time.
