Page 26 of Holding Out for a Gyro
“No.” The spoon froze suspended in midair. “You were a troublemaker?”
“A little bit. My parents can be overbearing.”
“At the end of the day, I bet they love you very much.”
“Yeah, they do.” He pursed his lips. “But, even though they mean well, they often leave me feeling like I can never measure up. It makes me afraid to even try sometimes. Getting to second place has never felt like a victory.”
“They push you too much?”
“I know they mean well, but God, they expect so much from me. My brother, Nicky, does everything right, and I do everything wrong.”
“Poor Bas.” I gave him an exaggerated pout.
He smiled. “On the other hand, I’m the baby, so I’m kind of spoiled. No way my brother could have wasted his life in a kitchen.”
“Is that how they see what you do?”
He frowned, and it was the first time I’d seen a black cloud cross his face. He exhaled. “It’s pretty much howIsee what I do.”
I’d fallen right into this personal conversation, but I discovered I cared. I wanted to be the one who cheered him up. “Well, I think what you do is magic. What’s your brother do that’s so important?”
“He’s a surgeon.”
“Oh, right.” He’d told me that last week. “Surgery’s overrated. I bet he can’t make macarons.”
Bas laughed, and I felt lighter for having cheered him up. “Nicky would never.”
“See there? You’re way more evolved.” As I said it, I wondered about how true that was. I didn’t like how easy it was to like Bas. My hard-wired instinct was to pull up the drawbridge, protect myself behind my walls, but he was like water flowing, so calm and quiet, seeping in like a trickle turning to a flood. If I didn’t start bailing, it would be too late to push him back out. “And this banana pudding is proof there’s a god.”
He turned his smile to full blast. “Thanks. You have no idea how much it has meant to me to be able to share this with someone who appreciates it. It’s healing a long-neglected part of my soul.”
Drip, drip.Everything he said or did was eroding the walls Old Chelsea had carefully constructed. They were there for a reason.They kept bad guys out. But try as I might, I couldn’t cast Bas as a villain.
He took another bite of pudding, looking like he was feigning indifference. “Did I see something about a picnic on your list?”
That was indeed one. “You have a good memory.”
“I remember the food ones.”
“Of course you would.”
When he said, “I’ve got another idea to help,” old habit made me want to say, “No, thanks. Let’s call it a day.”
But I’d come this far, and Dr. Rubin told me to let success be my motivation. So I made a joke. “You are single-handedly going to launch me to France.”
“Is a trip to France what you get for completing the list?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and cradled his coffee mug, blowing into it before taking a sip.
“I’ll never complete the list, but points unlock destinations.”
“How many points do you need for France?”
I ignored the coffee and reached for my wineglass. “Something like fifty between the two of us.”
“And how many do you have?”
“Maybe thirty-four?” Then I recalled the vegan day. “Or thirty-five, thanks to you.”
“How many points to go to Greece?”
