“We’ll make him a real dinner.”
We? I shrugged at him. “Maybe I should let you and him spend some time together—”
“It took me this long to score a date with you—you’re staying.” He waved for Fiona to go. “You take care of Aunt Meredith. Say bye to Mom, Bast.”
Sebastian yelled from inside his pillow fort. “I’m Sebastian!”
Lachlan shrugged. “See. We got this.”
Fiona waved goodbye and hurried to her car. Lachlan closed the door, leaning against it with a sharp exhale.
“Sorry about this,” he said.
“I didn’t take you for the baby-sitting type.”
“I help her out as much as I can. It’s always been the two of us…” He nodded toward the collapsing pillow fort. “Well, three of us now. Gotta stick together. Family first, right?”
Yeah, right. He was speaking to a girl who hadn’t seen her family in years.
A girl who left two voice mails for a father within the past week.
A girl who had yet to hear back from her father because she had so ruined any possible relationship with him and her family it was unlikely he even thought of her as a daughter anymore.
If I had been as devoted to my siblings as Lachlan was to Sebastian, things might have been a lot different.
“Are you okay with staying here?” Lachlan asked. “I’ll make us dinner.”
“Are you a good cook?”
“No idea. We’ll find out.”
Well, this had the potential for disaster. I kicked off my heels and readied to watch the fireworks.
Lachlan surveyed the mess of pillows cluttering his living room. He picked a cushion up with his right hand and fished out a squirming Sebastian with his left.
“Okay, little man. Are you hungry?”
“I want pizza!”
“Not every dinner has to be delivered in thirty minutes or less, kiddo.”
Sebastian laughed as Lachlan flipped him onto the pillows. He curled a finger for me to follow.
I liked the kitchen—white and beachy, just like the rest of the house. Huge windows captured the sunset, streaming orange-gold light over the quartz counters. An eat-in table wedged in the corner, opposite an entrance to a formal dining room which seemed to be a catch-all for Lachlan’s equipment.
The duffel bags were his only clutter. No decorations on the shelves. No art or pictures on the walls. Totally minimalist, unlike me.
Weird.
“I…uh…” Lachlan took inventory of his fridge with a frown. “Have a private chef now. I’ve never cooked much. Mom handled dinners when I was at home, and I ate in the athletic dining hall at college…”
He glanced at me. I hated to dash his hopes.
“I…usually grab a salad from a little bistro near my apartment on my way home from the practices.”
“Never learned at home?”
“The only thing I learned in the kitchen at home was how to jiggle the screen door so it wouldn’t squeak when I was sneaking out.”
“Naughty girl.”
Not really. Dinner time was always the worst. Dad usually demanded one of my sisters prepare him dinner. As the youngest, I never had that responsibility. Instead I was meant to sit at the table, completely silent as a woman was meant to be, and listen politely as he talked about his day at the office. It worked fine until my sisters were married off or away at their women’s colleges. Then Dad and I were alone.
I ran away the night Dad bruised my cheek because I refused to make him a steak.
I shrugged. “Didn’t stick around long enough to grab the family recipes.”
Lachlan searched the freezer. “Well, Christ. It can’t be that hard. Here. Chicken breasts. Bast, want some chicken?”
Bast wrestled with the stools at the counter, warning us of the imminent, imaginary lava danger pouring over the wooden floor. “Stop calling me Bast.”
Lachlan avoided the lava and stood on a rug. “If you want to eat, you’re gonna be called Bast.”
“Aw man.”
Lachlan glanced at me. “I named the damn kid. See the thanks I get?”
“You named him?”
“Bast. Chicken. Yes or no?”
Sebastian amused himself by clacking a salt and pepper shaker together. “I don’t like chicken.”
“What are you talking about? You love chicken. You have nuggets all the time.”
“That isn’t nuggets.”
Oh, this was going to be a fun night.
I leaned against the counter, chin in my hands. “Yeah, Charming. Those aren’t nuggets.”
“Well…” He stared at the package of frozen breasts. “They’re the inside of the nugget. You like what’s inside the nugget.”
Sebastian grinned, missing a front tooth. “I like what’s outside better.”