She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widening. I’ve surprised her. What, Gary didn’t tell her?
Well… good. Fuck her. Rich grandkid or not, it’s a sweet moment to turn the tables.
And I’ll be damned if she gets what’s mine.
3
Dylan
I’m so excited to get home and start the meal for tonight. I’m planning on beef stew. It used to be Sully’s favorite, but it can take forever to make, so I figure I’ll get an early start.
I’m not normally what you’d call a morning person; my culinary classes are mostly in the afternoon on weekdays, and that usually gives me plenty of time to sleep in and get up at my own pace. Today, though; today’s definitely different.
Jack’s coming over.
Jack, the childhood best friend that I hadn’t spoken to in years, until Sully’s death brought him back into my life.
It’s been so long since I’ve cooked for Jack. Probably not since we were kids, back when the three of us would spend our summers together. Cate was the only one missing from this happy reunion, but I knew her adult life always kept her busy. At least, her minimal involvement with social media seemed to make it pretty clear that she didn’t have much time for anything but work.
I’m so happy for her success, though, and I hope it treats her well. I’ll get to see her soon enough, anyway; after all, we still have to talk about what we’re going to do with the townhouse. Another bittersweet blessing to come from losing Sully.
I finish loading up my backpack. Fresh leafy greens are poking out of the top, but the real prize is the bundle of short ribs at the bottom, wrapped up nice and neat in butcher paper. It’s all going to smell so nice once I get it all in the Crock-Pot. I also picked up some breakfast sausage and some croissants, because I forgot to grab a bite before leaving the house and my stomach did the shopping for me.
It should all be perfect by the time Jack shows up later. I’m trying my best to not push too hard, but I can barely contain how excited I am to have him back in my life again. Our relationship hadn’t been the best up until recently.
We’d had a falling out years ago over something very, very silly.
My first kiss.
It had been such a perfect night. I’d met this guy, Connor, in home ec back in high school, and he asked me out one day. I didn’t know him super well, but I was flattered all the same. He was damn cute, so of course I said yes.
Connor was a perfect gentleman; we saw an awful movie and had some diner food, and just spent a lot of time laughing and smiling all around. At the end of it, while he was walking me home across the Common, he stopped me and we kissed.
Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was mine, and you never forget your first.
Then, next thing I knew, Jack was there, screaming at me.
Connor, of course, took off right away and left me holding the bag. So much for the perfect gentleman. I hadn’t understood why Jack was so upset at first, not until he started going on and on about how angry and disgusted he was. How he could never look at me the same way again. He never outright said it, but he didn’t have to; it was because Connor was another guy.
Knowing how Jack had grown up, and in what neighborhood, I should hardly have been surprised at an Irish Catholic Boston native taking offense at the idea of a man with another man, but he was my best friend, and I never saw it coming. We had talked about girls in the past, of course, amongst all the typical stuff that young teenage boys talked about. I liked them, too. A lot.
I remember enjoying many of those moments, just staring at Jack’s lean body whenever I thought he wasn’t looking. So many summers, so many stolen glances.
Honestly, I hadn’t thought I’d been all that subtle about it.
I don’t know whether Jack had actually been spying on me, or if it was just a stupid coincidence of timing, but I couldn’t believe how outright nasty he was being to me.
Even later, when I tried to understand where it had been coming from, it had still hurt.
Jack and I had more or less spent our most important years together in Sully’s townhouse, and I’d thought we were best friends. I’d thought we were solid.
Turned out that I was dead wrong about that. Nothing I said got Jack to talk to me again.
At least, not back then.
I was really pissed at him for a long time, but he mattered to me. I admit it. I always hoped for a reconciliation. All those years of silence between us? I didn’t ignore him by choice, but every one of my attempts to have it out with him was roadblocked or ignored, so I eventually gave up.
It took me completely by surprise when he came over to me at the funeral.
Time had been kind to him; all of those sharp edges had smoothed out and refined themselves. He’d gotten hot as hell, quite frankly, but given our history, I’ve been doing my best to keep that opinion to myself. We just started talking again, and I’m trying my best to keep it grounded in the present. I don’t need him running off again. If we can just keep things nice and chill, we should be totally fine.
Maybe even end up friends again.
Speaking of fine, I can already feel the breeze picking up just a bit, caressing my face as I hop on my bike and start to pedal off. Today I’ll cook for Jack, and maybe in the next couple of weeks I’ll get to cook for all three of us, if Cate shows up in town like I expect she’ll have to at some point.
I’d always been sort of the middleman for those two—I loved them both. They didn’t seem to get along very well together back when we were kids, but everything was more or less okay when I was in the middle of it all.
My childhood in that townhouse was as good as I could have ever hoped for. Back in those days, I wasn’t Dylan, I was “Tater.” Sully had taken to calling me that back when I refused to eat anything but tater tots. The memory makes me grin, even now. I was such a picky kid back then. My mother cooked for Sully for years, so I’d spend most of my days after school just hanging around, doing my homework or talking to Jack. And Cate, too, of course, during the summers.
Sully always seemed larger than life to me. His way with words and his sheer presence are both things that I still strive to emulate.
In a way, Sully was the reason I discovered how much I enjoy cooking. The moment I got started, I never once looked back. It gives me energy, makes me feel alive.
I’ve always been a quiet guy, very chill, even back then, but something about crafting a meal just awoke a spark inside me. Sometimes I wonder if he guessed it would happen like that.
He must have known how much I looked up to him.
Sully was sly as hell; would trick me into trying new things just because I saw how much he enjoyed eating them. You couldn’t get me to so much as look at a carrot until he started talking about how delicious they were with a little cinnamon glaze on them. Before I knew it, he and my mother had unlocked my palate, and I was helping out in the kitchen in no time. And later? Sully got me into culinary school when I couldn’t afford the first year.
They’ll see it in you, Tater, he said, trusting that I’d be good enough to pick up second-year scholarships and making me believe it, too. Now, I cover the remainder on my own and I do pretty okay for myself, especially since Sully let me live in the townhouse. Having no rent to pay, especially in Boston, has been a huge load off of both my mind and my budget.
Hopefully, Jack and Cate and I will be able to work something out with the townhouse. If I can just stay there long enough to graduate this year, I can get myself a job and look for another place to live. And sure, it kills me to think of leaving the one place I feel so right in, but I’m not going to dwell on that when I could be appreciating the time I’ve got there now.
Besides, I’m sure it’ll all work out, as long as I keep my nose to the grindstone.
I’m home before I know it, and I hop off my bike and lift it up the small stoop. I take just a quick moment to pop my earbuds in and start my jazz playlist so I can get myself in the proper cooking headspac
e, then I open the door and walk in.
The first thing I notice is Jack’s coat hanging from the rack. I smile. He’s early; what an unexpected surprise! Good thing I picked up enough sausage and croissants for two.
I practically skip into the kitchen, sliding my backpack down my arm, ready to greet Jack. I genuinely believed that our friendship had been irreparably shattered until he reached out to me at the funeral. The townhouse seems to have a way of repairing things, though—putting people at ease—and it’s the only place I can think of where I would want to cook for Jack.
I spent years missing his friendship, and maybe it will never go back to the way it was, but for now, I’m just going to enjoy the fact that he’s back in my life.
I arrive in the kitchen, but there’s no Jack. Weird. I shrug; maybe he’s upstairs on the phone, or in the bathroom. No matter, there’s no time to waste if I’m going to get this stew done up right.
I turn the volume up on my music and unbutton my sleeves, rolling them up tightly above my forearms. A moment later, I have my favorite dishtowel over my shoulder, and I’m unpacking my groceries. First things first: all the veggies go into the colander. I can already feel the energy coursing through me as I start the rinse, and all I can think about is how good all of this is going to smell.
Very, very soon.
Once that step is done, I grab a couple of plates and set them out for croissants and sausage, then I reach for the skillet and kick the fire on the stove. I unwrap the breakfast sausage as I wait for the skillet to heat up. The butcher did an amazing job; I don’t know what I’d do without fresh cuts of meat.
A couple of minutes later, I’ve got the sausages on the skillet in front of me, and the first smells of the morning start to fill the air. I can’t help but smile from ear to ear as I cook, making sure to keep the sausages moving so they don’t burn on any one side. Sausage is quick, thankfully, because I can already feel my tummy rumbling. I hope Jack’s hungry, too.
I flip the sausages onto the plates and slice open the croissants with a bread knife. I love mine with just a little bit of strawberry jam; a little sweet, a little tart, and a wonderful complement to the rest of the savory meal.
I undo a couple of buttons on my shirt collar, and bring it down so the air hits my chest. I dab a tiny bit of sweat away from my forehead with the dishtowel, and sling it back over my shoulder as I take my knife and get ready to start dicing the meat and veggies for the stew. Before I can get started on that, though, Jack finally pops into the kitchen and I feel my heart leap.
“Jack,” I say excitedly, putting my knife down and popping the earbuds out. “I didn’t expect to see you in so early. How’re you doing?”
Some of my enthusiasm dims at the look on his face, though. I can tell he’s upset about something, but before he can open his mouth to tell me what’s wrong, someone else bounds in.
Someone with killer curves, wearing just a bra and a pair of very well-fitted slacks.
My eyes quickly roll over her body from bottom to top, until I realize who it is.
“Cate?!” I shout, opening my arms wide and walking over to pull her into a huge hug. I’ve always been a hugger, and other than a brief squeeze at Sully’s funeral, it’s been far too long since I’ve had my arms around her.
And… wow. She’s never fit in them like this before.
Cate looks shocked for a second. I can feel the tension in her body, but before I can second-guess my impulsive embrace, it starts to melt away. She softens up and falls into my arms, and before I know it, I can feel my shirt start to soak through on my shoulder.
Is she crying? Laughing? Both?
I can’t quite tell what’s going on, but I gently stroke her hair as she presses into me, looking toward Jack in the hope of some answers.
“I’m lost here,” I say. “What’s going on? Are you two okay? What happened?”
At first, I wonder if Jack’s even going to answer. He turns away from me… almost as though he’s in disgust.
I can’t imagine why.
“We’re done here for today,” he grunts.
“Done?” I repeat, still feeling a little lost about the whole situation. “We’re still doing dinner tonight, aren’t we?”
“Sorry, I have plans,” he says, and I can feel my happiness start to fade a bit at his dismissive tone.
This had to happen eventually, I guess. Did I really think he’d changed his opinion of me? I don’t know what I expected.
I do know what I’d hoped, though.
Silly me.
I swallow my disappointment. “Jack, we still need to talk about the—”
“The contract, Dylan, I know,” he snaps back, cutting me off. “The faster we can decide what happens to the house, the happier I’ll be to wash my hands of this place.”
With that, Jack turns and grabs his coat, storming out the front door and leaving it with a hard slam.
I wince. Rude. I wish Cate hadn’t seen any of that. I still don’t know what happened between the two of them, but it clearly hadn’t been anything good.
I continue to console her, and she continues to laugh-sob against me.
“Shh, hey,” I start, working my fingers into a gentle massage, running over her neck and shoulders.
It’s hitting me that she’s half-naked, but I do my best to push that thought away. Things were never like that between us, and I just want to be whatever she needs right now.
“Dylan? It’s really you?” she asks.
“In the flesh,” I respond, smiling. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen her, too, but thankfully, that’s just been due to both of us growing up—life and distance—unlike my estrangement from Jack.
Cate seems to be calming down a bit. Her hair is damp, so I’m guessing her undressed state had to do with a bath or shower.
I didn’t think I’d been gone from the house for all that long, but apparently it had been long enough to miss all of the action.
“I don’t know what the hell Jack’s problem is,” Cate mumbles against my neck. “He’s being such a jerk right now, and he says he owns the house. I have no idea what’s going on, Dylan. I left New York because Gary said it was mine.”
I lean back against the counter and she straightens up a bit. Her in only a bra, hair still damp, and Jack irritated? I can piece a fair amount of this scene together.
“It’s Sully’s will,” I reply, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before letting my arms drop.
She swipes at her wet cheeks.
“Here,” I say, pulling my dishtowel down and holding it out to her.
“Thanks,” she says, taking it and gently dabbing at her face to clean up. “What about the will?” she asks, sniffing away the rest of her tears. “Gary told me I inherited the house.”
Poor thing, I think. Gary’s usually so thorough, but Sully’s death hit us all hard.
“Cate, from what I understand, you did… sort of. Sully left the house to all three of us.”
“All three of us?”
“Yep. You, me, and Jack. Equal shares, with some kind of Sully-type stipulations in there that I’m a little unclear on. Jack and I were supposed to go over the contract tonight over dinner. He says it’s not his area of law, but he seems pretty confident he’ll be able to make some sense of it. Honestly, I don’t think he’s looked at it too closely yet, either.” I frown, glancing toward the door Jack had stormed out of. “I guess that’s not happening now, though.”
Cate looks puzzled, then sighs and shakes her head.
“Gary was going to go over it with me earlier, too, but then Mom called.”
She grimaces, and I withhold my eye roll. I know what Cate’s mother is like. All too well, in fact. She used to tell Cate not to hang out with “the help.”
I have no idea how someone as beautiful inside as Cate could have possibly come from someone so ice-cold.
“Mom was mad at me for leaving so quickly, but I had to come,” Cate says, a little hitch in her br
eath. “I wasn’t going to miss the chance to be here again for the world.”
“Well,” I start, smiling and offering my arms. “I’m glad you came. Come here.”
Cate smiles back, letting me turn her around so her back is toward me. She sinks into my chest and I wrap her up tight, one arm around her waist and the other arm just below her collarbone.
Cate reaches up and holds onto my forearm with her hands, squeezing it as she lets her head fall back against me with a sigh. I can feel the tension ease out of her, and my smile gets a little wider.
This feels right. I’ve missed her.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she says again, practically melting against me.
We’d seen each other at the funeral in passing, but she’d looked lost, swept up in the wake of that force of nature known as her mother, and I’d been dealing with my own grief.
“I can’t believe it either,” I say, glad to have this second chance. “Before the funeral, what had it been? Seven years? Almost a decade now?”
“Oh God, I don’t know,” she says. “I lost count. The years just started rolling into each other, one into the next.”
“Still feels like yesterday, though,” I say, and I can feel her squeeze me just a bit tighter. “Sorry you had to see Jack like that. I don’t know what got into him.”
“He’s always hated me,” she says, her voice more confused than bitter.
“Oh, I doubt that,” I say, shaking my head as I bite back another smile. Sure, there had always been some tension between them, but I definitely remember it differently. “I think Jack just has trouble expressing himself. You know how he gets. Or at least, how he used to get, back in the day. I can’t say I’m an expert on who he is now, I guess.”
Cate laughs. “Remember the first time you cooked for us?”
“Oh God,” I say, grinning. “French toast.”
“The perfect French toast,” she replies. “Jack had never had it before. It took Grandpa so long to convince him to just try a little bit.”
“Yeah, that didn’t last long. Jack had that first bite and he was hooked.”
Mine: MMF Bisexual Menage Romance Page 4