Page 35 of The Catch

I nod, go into my room to shower, and come back out to find a gorgeous spread on the table. We eat together, like breakfast in the early morning before work is our routine. It's a thread of awareness that stays with me, stitching into each of my breaths as I tell her about the TV show Evie got for us. With so much going on at the pool the night before and with Pablo's visit, we haven't had the time to talk about it. It's prime material to keep our conversation casual, regardless of the feelings swimming in my blood.

"It's a Christmas episode for a limited series they're trying out." I put slices of tomatoes and queso fresco on half a bun. "They're the largest streaming company, right? They want to expand their catalog of food shows, and they want to do it with holiday specials."

"And the vibe?"

"Friends spending a holiday together. Evie and Logan will be there, too. To the cameras, you'll be the primary chef and I'll help you. They included a charity component, to go with showcasing your food. It will be great PR for all of us."

She takes a long sip of her coffee, eyes searching mine. Her lips take on an excited slant.

"It could help me network." Her voice barely contains her enthusiasm. "I could talk to the producers about who is catering for them, or if they know of any business opportunities. And if someone watching needs catering services, and knowing that I exist thanks to the show…"

I take my mug and clink it with hers as a toast. "Exactly."

This time, her sigh is light with relief.

"Thank you, Saint. You've done so much for me. How can I ever repay you?"

"I'll invoice you one day, remember? We'll negotiate every item."

"Right." Her lips pull to the side. "The invoice."

I give her a solemn look. It's part of the joke.

She chuckles. "For now, can I invite the guys over for dinner afterwards, at least?"

"Great idea. We can feed them here at home."

"I just hope you know I don't take your generosity for granted."

Her serious gaze lands heavy on me, throwing gravel down my chest. Each pebble is a time she'sappreciated my generosity. Like I haven't yearned to be the one she comes to for help. Like helping her has been an inconvenience, rather than what I simply must do for her because I care.

I smirk. "Ames. Please. Maybe it's time you accept help without weighing things in a balance. We all want to do it, okay? So let me change the subject and I'll tell you more about the show."

She lets me distract her, but I know the wheels are turning in her mind. I distract her and explain that during the week before Christmas, there will be one episode released per day with famous people and a few of their guests. The idea is to present the show as if the famous person is preparing dinner with their friends. While folk cook and have fun, they will chat about a charity of their choice, and viewers will be gently encouraged to donate.

Eventually, she matches my energy and we fall back into giddy conversation. We brainstorm meal ideas for the TV show, and we make a plan to get her things from Aidan's place. It's like we're playing pretend. As if we're a team. Perhapsa couple, overcoming the small frictions of everyday life. Living joint lives and planning what comes next.

I take the moment, with its quiet dreams weaved into it, and place it in a tiny box. I close it with twine, because this box can't open. I've known that for a while. Even more now, when I can see Pablo's displeased face in my mind, when he imagined Ames and I together.

Chapter 14

Saint

We get a driver to take the group to Aidan's place. It didn't take much convincing and Logan, Dom, Bear, and Damián have joined us for the trip. The latter offered to drive separately in a small rented moving truck, to have a vehicle where to pack Ames' things. The rest of the guys, Ames, and I ride in a large SUV.

"Tell us the plan again," Dom says. "Whose ass are we kicking?"

"No one is kicking Aidan—" Ames tries, but I interrupt her.

"— without notice from Ames herself. But if someone is going to kick him, it should be Damián. His specialty is in punting balls, after all."

"Saint—" Ames starts to scold me, but I'm not intimidated. She's not successful at hiding her delight at my comment. "We're not here to be mean to Aidan. We're here to pick up the things I still have in his condo, and to make sure my piano makes it to Saint's place with no scratches."

She gives me a worried look. As we planned for this trip, she told me of this heirloom piece. It once belonged to her grandmother and, when she moved in with Aidan, Ames brought it with her. She offered to put it in a storage unit, not to have it getting in the way in my place. I said it was nonsense and thatwe couldn't risk it getting damaged in a random glorified locker room without humidity control. As usual, she didn't fully believe me when I said I didn't mind.

"Wait." Dom frowns. "You play piano?"

"I don't," Ames says, "but my grandmother did. I didn't spend enough time with her to learn, as she lived in Uruguay, but she left it to me. It's a connection to my roots, you know?"