At the same time, Logan says, “Maya’s love interest.”
Elliott chimes in, too. “The new captain of the Bobcats.”
I narrow my eyes at Logan.Asshole. I’m 100 percent not offering him a slice of babka for dessert.
Ava’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to my love life. One mention of a man, even if it’s someone I chatted with in line at Boston Bean, and she’s mapping out our wedding and picking out our kids’ names.
“Oh, c’mon, Maya,” Logan says with a chuckle. “You can’t deny that you and Berrett have chemistry. It even got me all hot and bothered.”
“Okay, ew,” Elliott grumbles.
The boyish grin on Logan’s face makes it hard to be annoyed with him. He’s so damn charming. Add in the dimple, and it’s no wonder my brother’s infatuated.
Even so, unease prickles at me. “Cole isn’t interested. Trust me.”
Logan’s blond brows bend together in confusion. “Of course he’s interested. Do you know the last time he invited someone who doesn’t share his DNA to a game? Never. Because he hasn’t shown any interest in a single topic that isn’t hockey since his br—” He dips his chin and straightens his napkin in his lap. “Let’s just say it’s been a while. So trustmewhen I say he is interested.”
Unwilling to argue with him over something so pointless, I take a sip of my wine. Cole never reached out after the Kiss. And yeah, that sucked a little, but it’s fine. Not a huge deal on its own, right? Right. But the other morning, I saw an article about the growing popularity of alien romances and sent it to him, figuring he’d find it funny. Thought it was an appropriate way to reach out. He gave me tickets to a hockey game; I sent him a text about books. Harmless.
Except he ignored the message.
I didn’t even get a stupid thumbs-up or a simpleha ha.
No, I was met with absolute radio silence.
It shouldn’t bother me. Itreallyshouldn’t. I promised myself I’d never give anyone—especially a man—the power to affect my emotions. Hence the reason I tend to stick to casual relationships and very rarely allow myself to be deeply invested in the people I date. With one foot constantly following a new man out the door, my mom instilled in me—incidentally, of course, because she rarely took the time to teach me anything—a sense of self-reliance. I’ve depended on no one but myself for as long as I can remember. In fact, I’m probably a littletooindependent, as illustrated by my ability to move on from a relationship without dwelling on it too much. Case in point: Josh.
I suppose being more hurt by Cole’s lack of response than I am about my ex—who, annoyingly, won’t stop texting me—hooking up with another girl while we were still dating is somewhat alarming. One stupid Kiss, and my brain is ripping off its yellow caution tape like it’s performing a striptease. It’s probably for the best that things didn’t go further.
“You don’t believe me.” Logan gives me an exaggerated pout, though the expression quickly morphs into a wicked grin. “That’ll just make it all the sweeter when I prove you wrong. I’ve known Cole for years. Once he figures out what he wants, there’s no stopping him. And he wants you, Maya.”
I don’t bother correcting him. And honestly, if Cole’s looking for a real relationship, he’s barking up the wrong tree. Am I interested in riding him like a cowboy? Absolutely. But sex and relationships don’t go hand in hand for me. Thanks to my mother’s many failed relationships and the unrealistic expectations that romance books have given me, I don’t plan on falling in love anytime soon. If ever.
Ava leans in with a protective look in her eye and steals a sip of my wine. “If a guy doesn’t realize how amazing Maya is right off the bat, then he isn’t worth her time.”
Before Logan can argue with her, the oven timer rings.
I’ve never loved thesaved by the bellcliché more than I do right now. I hurry to the kitchen, and Ava trails behind me, leaning against the counter as I take the warming babka out of the oven.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” she remarks. “I want to hear about this man.”
I give her a noncommittal noise in reply. “There’s nothing to tell, Aves. Promise.”
“Then why are you giving me devil horns?” Rather than lunge for the babka, she crosses her arms over her chest. That doesn’t bode well for me. “Are you okay?”
I smooth out my features and twist my lips up into a reassuring smile, despite the slight pit in my stomach. “I’ve got both of my siblings home with me for the first time in months. I’m better than okay, Aves.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
cole
The scentof onions sizzling in butter hits me as I step into the kitchen. For weeks, I’ve stuck to the rigorous diet of protein and veggies my trainer created for me, and I haven’t snuck in so much as a chocolate bar in months. The smell of real, indulgent holiday food? It’s enough to make me lightheaded.
My mom is in her element, moving around the room like a conductor leading an orchestra, mixing this and whisking that. She stirs, sprinkles, and taste-tests with a precision only earned through decades of creating holiday meals. It’s an achingly familiar sight; one that hits me in the chest with enough force to steal my breath.
“Hi, Ma,” I call out. My voice is barely audible over the whirr of the MixAid, so when she doesn’t so much as twitch in my direction, I try again. “Mom!”
Startling, she presses a hand over her heart. “Jeez, honey. Warn a woman, why don’t you?”
