Page 218 of Embriagado

Leaving the pan to chill on the stove, I turned to face him. “After your party. Thinking about it—” I put the towel away. “—why did you invite her?”

“Well…” He walked over to me, stopping with his sneakers nudging my feet and his hand on my waist. “You sounded distressed when you talked about them, so I thought I’d help.”

My brows rose as his words sank in. “Wait, you planned it?”

Was it hypocritical of me to suddenly feel guilty?

“I did.” He tilted his head, eyes watching me. “You’re upset?”

Breaking our stare, I coughed. “Well… No, not really, it’s just that, I don’t know. I feel like it’s wrong.”

He let go of me and walked over to the table, where he began arranging the plates and cutlery I’d left there. “If in the end, the result is what you wished for, who cares about the how?” He turned to face me. “Where do you keep the glasses?”

I pointed at the cabinet and watched him walk over there.

“I care.”

He huffed, picking out two glasses. “Well, that’s just a shame.”

“I guess we see things differently,” I said while he fixed the glasses to align with the plates.

“You don’t happen to have napkins, do you?”

I shook my head.

“Oh well, it is what it is, then.” His lips curled up. “I’ll write myself a mental note to buy you some. I recently got a new linen set for my kitchen. I’m sure you’ll love them. The place I got them from also offers matching hand towels.”

Grabbing the pan, I placed it on the table. “You don’t actually care for shit like that, do you?”

He eyed me, one brow raised. “Why, of course I do.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“A weirdo with good taste.” He gave me a naughty look that made me bite my lip.

“You’re damn right about that.”

We both sat down, and I served him first before cutting myself a slice.

“It smells amazing,” he said after I handed him the plate. “Pass me the salad, please?”

I did, loving how easily we fell into this domestic lifestyle.

“By the way—” He sucked his thumb clean. “—I spoke with Sinclair.”

He handed me back the bowl, and I grabbed it with both hands.

“What?”

He picked up his fork. “Dion’s guy? You’ve met him before.” He took a bite. “Mhmm, that’s delicious. Anyway, I talked to him yesterday, and they were willing to move the fight to tonight.”

In a second, the bubble burst.

And as if struck by shock, I still held on to the damn bowl.

“So, that’s what this was all about?” The words barely left my mouth.

“What do you mean?”