Page 48 of The One Timer

I shrug and head to the shower.

Later, when we’re finished with afternoon practice, Sabien, Jason, and Link talk about where we’re going to eat dinner as we dress. The four of us have fallen into the routine of going for dinner together after practice or films or our afternoon nap, and now Rafe has taken to calling us the four musketeers.

“I can’t go tonight, guys.”

“So you are seeing the chick.” Jason winks. He’s harmless, so I laugh.

“Technically, I’m heading back to Boston to have dinner with Gran. I promised I’d stick around home for the holiday week until after the gala.”

It’s partially true, but Sabien sees right through me. He smirks.

“You mean you wanted to stick around Boston to see the chick,” Link says.

“Her name is Emery.” Wrong answer.

They all laugh at me.

Sabien shakes his head. “You’re whipped, man.”

I’m about to tell them to take a flyer, but I stop myself because this feels too much like I’m in middle school pretending not to like a girl. Shit.

When I get home, Emery is gone. To say I’m disappointed doesn’t describe the bottom-falling-out feeling in my gut. I find Gran and Uvi in the dining room with the table set and no Emery of the honey-gold eyes and chestnut hair waiting to tempt me.

“Sit down,” Uvi says. “I’ll bring in the food.”

After I give her a hug, I take the chair to the right of Gran, who sits at the head of the table.

“This is formal. What’s the occasion?” It feels uncomfortable with only the two of us.

“Uvi thought it would be nice, and I let her have her way.” Gran smiles and pats my hand.

I roll my eyes, and she laughs.

Uvi rolls a cart from the kitchen and puts the food on the table.

“Smells great. What is it?”

Uvi says, “Shrimp with grilled peppers, onions, and broccoli over a bed of rice with lemon sauce.”

I blow out a whistle. “Did Emery make this?” Even I know this is no basic dish.

Uvi nods and excuses herself. “I’ll leave you two to eat dinner alone together. I had a big meal at lunchtime.”

Not wasting any time, I serve Gran and then myself, and when I taste it, I’m impressed.

“This shit—I mean, food is good.”

Gran arches a brow but doesn’t comment on my rough edges, as she calls it. “It is good. Emery has been helping Uvi with cooking. She’s a real doll. She went out of her way to get a cookbook with healthy recipes and practice the recipes before serving them to us. She won’t let me order out because she says restaurant food has too much salt. And salt is my weakness, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.”

She nods. “The doctor had to adjust my blood pressure medication last time and insists I cut back. Emery was with me at the appointment, and she’s good about taking care of whatever the doctor says.”

I nod, understanding better why Gran thinks so highly of Emery as her caretaker.

“You know her background is…delicate,” Gran says.

“I know all about it.”