“Theyalways do.”
“Speaking of your mom and sister, where are you staying? Andfor how long?”
“I’mstaying with my parents,” he says, his gaze dipping down to thetable. He swirls his mug, watching the whipped cream mix with thedark liquid. The way his eyes linger on his drink makes me thinkhe’s avoiding looking at me. “And I’m not exactly sure how long I’mstaying. Until next weekend at least. Maybe longer.”
“Longer? What about your job and…” I can’t say her name. It’sridiculous to be jealous of a woman I hardly know. “And yourgirlfriend?”
Wesley shifts inhis seat, his gaze flicking from his drink to my face and backagain before finally meeting and holding my eyes. “They’ll still bethere. Between getting your mom’s invitation to your party andStella moving back to town, I decided it was time to come home fora bit.”
His gaze drops tomy mouth. My cheeks flare with heat as I realize I just mouthed theword ‘home’. Before I can quiz him on how long ‘a bit’ is, he says,“Stella has told me how much she loves living with you.”
I should call himout for changing the subject, but I don’t. Wesley is one of themost forthright people I know, so if he’s not giving me the wholestory, there must be a good reason. “It’s been great,” I say.“Fantasy fulfillment at its finest. We always dreamed of livingtogether, but it never worked out. Who knew it would happen at thisstage of our lives?”
We talk more aboutStella and the rest of his family. Wesley tells me about hissporadic DJing gigs in Ottawa and continues to evade questionsabout work and his girlfriend. I’m in the middle of answering astring of questions about my own job when Bea appears to check onus.
“Iwouldn’t mind something to eat,” Wesley says, shooting me aquestioning look.
As if on cue, mystomach rumbles. Bea looks between us, a knowing smile twitching atthe corners of her lips. “Burger and fries?” she asks, and Inod.
“Youreally do remember everything,” Wesley says, and Bea shoots him awink over her shoulder as she takes off toward the kitchen. Hewatches her for a second, then says to me, “Although youdidsay you still comehere all the time, so that would explain her knowing yourfavorite.”
“Ihaven’t ordered a burger and fries in years,” I tell him. “Probablynot since the last time you and I had dinner together here. Horatioslowly and somewhat begrudgingly added a few healthier options tothe menu when his doctor told him he needed to be eating healthierhimself. I usually order one of the all-day breakfast specials orsoup and a salad. Sometimes the girls and I split a bunch ofappetizers.”
“Huh.”Wesley’s eyebrows are high on his forehead, as if I just told himsome huge, life changing secret.
“Burgers and fries were always our thing,” I say, probablyunnecessarily.
“Yeah.Yeah, they were.” A smile starts at one corner of his mouth andspreads slowly. “We had a lot of‘things’, you and I, didn’t we,Buttercup?”
He sounds almostflirty, but that can’t be right. Wesley and I were many thingsgrowing up, but we were never flirty with each other, as much as Iwished we were. That, paired with the way he keeps calling meButtercup—a nickname he hasn’t used in years—is sending thebutterflies in my stomach into a frenzy.
CHAPTER FOUR
Wesley getssidetracked from his maybe-flirting when he sees someone he knowswalk by outside, and he starts telling me a story about somethingthe pair of them did in high school. Bea swings by a few minuteslater and deposits drinks on the table—Sprite for both of us,something else I haven’t had since the last time I had dinner withWesley—and returns again shortly with our food.
I’m dousing myfries in vinegar when I realize Bea is still standing there, handson hips, her gaze swiveling back and forth between Wesley and me.Her misty eyes match her wistful smile, causing an unexpected lumpof emotion to form in my throat. I’m about to ask if she’s okaywhen she gives a full-body shake, releases a loud sigh, and walksaway.
Wesley’s softlaughter draws my attention across the table. He plucks the bottleof vinegar from my limp fingers and sprinkles some over his friesbefore reaching for the ketchup.
“Whatdo you think that was about?” I ask, plucking the piece of lettucefrom my bun and sliding it onto Wesley’s burger. He lifts bothpieces of lettuce and points at the glistening, ruby red slice oftomato underneath. I stab it with my fork and stack it on top of mytomato. This is how it’s always been—I like lettuce, but not onburgers or sandwiches, and Wesley doesn’t like tomatoes on burgersbecause he says they make the bun soggy. The whole exchange is overin a matter of seconds, with neither of us saying aword.
I look up as Ilift the burger to my mouth. Wesley is watching me with anunreadable smile. “What?”
He shakes his headand lifts his own burger, taking a big bite. He chews for whatseems like forever and then finally swallows. “I just love how wefall back into our old rhythms, no matter how much time we’ve spentapart.” He sets down his burger and wipes his fingers on a napkin.“As for Bea, I think she’s happiest when all her ducklings returnto the nest.”
“Can’tdisagree with that. When Stella moved back, Bea had Horatio makeher a special cake. She even offered to let Stella have theapartment over the diner and a job here if she wanted it until shefound something else.”
“Stellatold me. She joked about taking the apartment if she overstayed herwelcome at your place.”
“Thatwould never happen. Having her back in Bellevue feels like a dreamcome true, and I love living with her. I already know I’ll be sadwhen she finds a place of her own and moves out.”
“Maybeyou can switch one McGrath sibling for the other and I’ll take overher room when she moves out.”
“You, living back in Bellevue? Don’ttease me, Wesley.” I laugh as I say it, assuming he’s joking. Hedoesn’t laugh with me, though, and that tiny, indecipherable smileis twitching away at the corners of his mouth again.
In a completelyuncharacteristic move, I decide to let it drop. Wesley has beenevading certain topics and making cryptic comments all evening.Something is clearly up, but if I know Wesley as well as I think asI do—as well as I have since birth—he’ll tell me when he’s ready.And if he doesn’t, we both know I’m not above hounding him until hegives in. Or calling in his little sister asreinforcement.
Instead, I focuson my burger. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hadn’t had one sincethe last time Wesley and I ate here together. If Wesley’sblissed-out expression is any indication, he’s having a momenttoo.
