Page 92 of Once Upon a Lie

Me: ​​Oh, just you wait. The smell is nothing compared to the taste of my famous spaghetti. Homemade sauce. Meatballs. Real garlic. Fresh bread.​​

Shane: ​​Okay, turning on turbo speed. I’ll be there before you can blink.​​

Good. I miss you.

I prop the phone against the backsplash of my kitchen and let myself enjoy how normal it all feels. Making dinner for a man who’s starting to feel a lot like my man and teasing each other via text when we’re too busy to stare into each other’s eyes. It’s a version of a life I never dared to dream about as a kid, and one I didn’t think I wanted as an adult.

But boy is it better than I expected.

A surge of giddiness hits me like a freight train, and I let out a little squeal of excitement. Pip hears me and shifts on the rug near the kitchen doorway, lifting his head to look at me before settling again with a soft huff.

“I know, but I can’t help it. I’m excited,” I tell him. “Plus, you weren’t supposed to be here tonight, buddy, so we’re all going to have to adjust a little.”

He lets out another huff.

“Also, how about we keep the fact that I’m about to grate some fresh parm on your dinner between us, yeah?”

Pip lifts his head, and I don’t miss the way he licks his little lips. I take that as confirmation that our unauthorized food secret will be safe from his dad.

Alfred is currently in Memphis, visiting his sister Marlene. She’s five years younger than him, and whenever she decides something needs immediate attention—her roof, her pipes, her feelings—he drops everything to go deal with it. Pip, however, does not travel well, even with a bucket of Dramamine, and Marlene doesn’t like dogs.

So instead of traveling to Memphis with Alfred, Pip spent the day at The Hole Story with me, curled up behind the counter like he owned the joint, and now he’s claimed my condo as if he always lives here. He’s not a frequent sleepover pal at my place, but he’s done it enough that he knows the routine. I think, too, since I’ve been home after the repairs, he’s been missing the opportunity to cuddle with me at night.

I check the homemade garlic bread in the oven, but when my phone buzzes again on my kitchen counter, I set my oven mitt down and check the screen, thinking it’ll be Shane.

It’s not. Rather, it’s my brother, Nico, trying to butt his nose into places it doesn’t belong.

Nico: ​​You still dating that douchebag?​​

Me: ​​Wow. Hi to you too. And none of your business.​​

Nico: ​​I want to meet him.​​

God, he’s relentless. I should’ve known he wouldn’t forget about me saying I might be dating someone at our parents’ house last week.

Me: ​​No.​​

Nico: ​​Why not?​​

I glance at the sauce as I give it a few slow stirs.

Me: ​​Because you’ll scare him off.​​

His response is instant.

Nico: ​​Good. That’s how we know if he’s worth keeping.​​

I roll my eyes.

Me: ​​“We” don’t know anything. Only *I* can make that decision and that means you’ll meet whoever I may or may not be dating when and if I want you to.​​

He doesn’t respond, which means he probably isn’t going to drop this anytime soon, but before I can send a follow-up text telling him to stop being such a psycho, there’s a knock at the door, and the burst of excitement over Shane’s arrival is enough to put all thoughts about Nico on the back burner.

I’m already smiling as I set the phone down, wipe my hands on a dish towel, and open the door. Shane’s smile is easy and familiar, and he looks as handsome as ever in a white T-shirt and jeans and hair still a little damp from his shower. Goodness, why is he so hot?

“Hey,” he says and presses a soft kiss to my lips.

“Hey.”