Page 77 of Carter

“Nope. But my mom used to make it all the time. It was my favorite growing up.”

I feel him staring at me, and when I look up, he has this strange smile on his face.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s just… nothing.”

“It’s something.”

Sighing, he rests his forearms on the table and says, “You invite me over. Cook me dinner, after you’ve never cooked before, and you make a meal that reminds you of your mother. It’s just… sweet.”

“Yeah,” I agree, but that’s all I can say about that. If I think too much into it, I’ll start feeling too much.

“All right, well, I guess if we get food poisoning, we’ll get it together.” He digs in, getting a big scoop and holding it out. It takes a moment for me to realize what he wants, and when I do, I get my own scoop. We tap forks, then take the bite.

His face goes through different emotions. Same as mine probably.

His eyes narrow as he swallows.

“This is…” he begins.

“Good,” I say, surprised. I huff a laugh. “This isgood.”

“It’s so good,” he agrees.

“Holy shit,” I laugh. “I madegoodfood.”

“You made amazing food,” Carter says with a proud smile. A smile that is now burned into my brain.

After dinner, we watch TV. He convinces me to buy a painting. Just one. It takes me a long time to find it, and I don’t even get it off a chain store. Carter shows me these artists—this Russian couple that illegally climbs to the top of spires and other tall buildings to take photos. He says it’s ironic to have it in my house, since I’m a cop and the shots were taken illegally. I think it’s kind of funny, and the pictures are pretty cool, so I agree.

Carter helps me pick out patio furniture, giving me all sorts of advice like he’s been selling furniture his entire life. There isn’t an exact shipping date, but if it ships to store and I pick it up, it’ll be here sooner, so I go with that option and make a mental note to keep an eye out for that email.

After that, we watch a movie.Fight Club. I’d heard of it but never seen it. Carter looked almost offended, so he put it on immediately.

He’s on one side of the couch, and I’m on the other.

At least, that’s how we started. But somehow, we keep shifting toward one another and our socked feet have brushed a time or two.

“The only person I’ve ever had in my home is Jericho, my brother,” I admit.

“You’re the only person who’s been in my apartment,” he says.

“You’re the only one that’s been here, in this house.”

Carter smirks. “It’s crazy to still be someone’s first at this age.”

“We’re not old.”

“Speak for yourself,” he says.

“I’m older than you.”

“Doesn’t feel like that.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I say. “Sometimes, I think I should be a grandpa.”

“Hot grandpa.”