by Lake, C. J.
“If you want me to.” Just then they heard the knock on the door. “Oh, you know what? You get that. I just remembered that I prepped garlic bread this morning; it’s in the fridge. I’ll put it in the broiler and be out. Deal?”
“Deal. You had me at Spana-something.”
~
“Tray, it smells wonderful in here!” Mari Barrett said as she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around her son. “Are you cooking?” When she pulled back, her dark eyes glistened. “We missed you,” she added, touching a hand to Tragan’s roughened cheek.
“Son,” Jack Barrett said, coming up behind Mari, who stepped aside so they could say hello. Jack reached for a strong handshake, clapping Tragan’s bicep heartily with his other hand. “Good to see you.”
“You, too,” Tragan told them, meaning it. It had only been a couple weeks since he’d seen them, and though he hadn’t given it much thought, now that they were here, his parents were inevitably a comforting sight. His mom was short and pillowy, with black hair and dimples in her cheeks. She was definitely the more dominant personality of the two--whereas Tragan’s dad, Jack, was quieter, more reserved, and despite being retired, still looked the part of the big, robust Irish fisherman.
“Is it my imagination,” Jack added as they walked into the living room, “or is this place a lot neater than the last time I was here?” Before Tragan could respond, Andy emerged from the kitchen and began walking toward them. “Oh--we didn’t realize you had a new girlfriend,” Jack nearly whispered, exchanging a surprised expression with his wife.
“Girlfriend?” Mari said, intrigued, when Tragan interrupted.
“No, no, this is my roommate,” he told them, as Andy joined the group and gave a small, friendly wave.
“Hi, I’m Andy. Just the roommate,” she threw in lightly.
“Yeah, see, Ethan bailed on the lease out of nowhere and--” Tragan began, when Andy politely interjected.
“He got accepted into a graduate program in England so he had to go,” she explained. “We’ve been friends for years, so he asked me if I wanted to take over the lease for him. That way Tragan wouldn’t be stranded, and I was looking for an apartment anyway.”
“Oh,” Mari said, nodding almost vigorously, “well, then that worked out. Tragan, why didn’t you tell us all this?”
“It just happened…pretty much.”
“Are you hungry, by chance?” Andy asked Jack and Mari.
“Starving,” Jack admitted.
“But I’m too tired to go to a restaurant,” Mari said, looking pointedly at her husband as though they’d been through this discussion already. “We’ll just wait till we get home.”
“No, please, eat with us. I was about to put out Spanakopita.”
“Everything Andy makes is awesome,” Tragan said truthfully. She smiled at him.
“Mmm, is that what that smell is?” Jack asked, sniffing the air.
“Great, have some,” Andy insisted. “There’s a ton. I’m just going to set the table--”
Politely, Mari demurred. “No, really. Thanks so much--it smells delicious--but we couldn’t take your food,” she said, making it clear this was a matter of principle, and not a bias against spinach pie.
“Why not?” Tragan said. “I take her food all the time.”
At that, Mari shot her son a disapproving glance. Then remarked: “Andy, I hope Tragan is being easy to live with.”
With a wave of her hand, she assured her, “He’s fine. Come on…”
Ultimately Jack, Mari, and Tragan followed Andy’s lead to the kitchen, and ten minutes later, they were all seated around the table with filled plates and glasses, and a fragrant basket of garlic bread as their centerpiece.
“So, Andy, what do you do?” Jack asked casually as he passed the bread to his wife.
“Well, right now I’m in transition,” Andy admitted. “I just graduated from college in December. And at the moment, I’m actually participating in a drug study at St. Catherine’s. That should end in another six weeks. After that, I’ll be able to really focus on a career.”
Instead of asking her what her major was or what her career might be, Tragan’s mom was stuck on the first part of what Andy said. “Drug study?” she echoed cautiously. “That sounds dangerous, no?”
“Um, not this one. My…” She hesitated for a second. “…friend is a doctor at St. Catherine’s and he’s actually the one who convinced me to participate.”
That set Tragan’s attention on high-alert. She had to mean Brad, didn’t she? But then why call him a “friend” instead of her boyfriend?
“You must trust him,” Mari replied. “Andy, this is wonderful,” she enthused after a bite of Spanakopita. “So much flavor!”
“Excellent,” Jack agreed.
As Andy thanked them for the compliments, she explained about cooking being a recent hobby of hers. “What else do you enjoy?” Mari asked conversationally.
“Reading,” Tragan said just as Andy said, “Playing piano.” That stopped Tragan short. “I didn’t know you played piano.”
She nodded. “My mom has one at her house. So I’ve played it off and on for years. Though Tragan was right about the reading, too. I’m a total book junkie.”
“I love to read, too!” Mari said cheerfully and reached over to get her bag off the counter. “I always carry a book in my purse in case we’re stuck in traffic. This is the one I’m reading now.” She pulled out a slightly dog-eared copy of something called, Seducing the Billionaire Earl’s Pregnant Bride.
Tragan cringed when he saw the title and the half-naked man on the cover. “Jeez, Ma…”
Of course Andy was much more supportive. “Is it good?” she asked, as she flipped the paperback over and skimmed the back.
“Yes, it is pretty good. Very passionate,” Mari assured her.
“Oh, brother…” Tragan muttered.
Andy shot him a grin, then asked his parents, “So what was Tragan like growing up?”
“Tragan was very independent--strong,” Mari said. “And no matter what friends he had, Tray always seemed to be the leader.”
“That’s true,” Jack said.
“Hmm, I can picture that,” Andy said.
“By the way, Andy, does your family live around here?” Mari asked.
“Yes, my mom lives nearby and so does my older sister, Emma, with her two sons. Her husband died a few years ago,” Andy volunteered with a sad dip in her voice, before resuming, “And my dad actually lives in Switzerland.”
“Switzerland, really?” Jack said, surprised.
“See, my parents got divorced when I was in high school and my father moved over there for his job not long after. He’s an investment banker and he works out of the Zurich office.”
Tragan could see by his parents’ expressions that they didn’t know quite what to say to that. A sound intruded upon the conversation anyway. And a fucking irritating one at that. Brad’s distinct ring tone, which Tragan recognized by now.
“Oh, will you excuse me?” Andy said, rising from her chair. “That’s my phone.” As she hurried to get Brad’s call, Tragan swallowed down his jealousy.
He felt almost elated when Andy returned less than ten minutes later.
After another hour, his parents said their goodbyes, insisting they were too tired to go anywhere for coffee and dessert. When Andy disappeared into the kitchen, Tragan walked them to the door. Mari said, “We’re so glad we stopped by. We missed you!”
“Missed you guys, too. I would’ve come by next week or so.”
She reached up and encircled him in a tight hug. When she pulled back, she spoke more softly. “Wait, before we go…what’s the story with you and Andy?”
Jack chimed in, “She’s a good girl. You should hold onto that one.”
Quickly, Tragan correct them. “There’s no story there. Andy and I are just friends.”
“But--”
“She already has a boyfriend,” he stated bluntly.
; Too bluntly apparently, because his mother suddenly looked crestfallen. “Oh, no…she does? I just assumed--I mean, it seemed like maybe she was hoping to impress us a little. Why would a girl want to spend her evening with a boy’s parents unless she liked the boy?”
Even though Tragan acted unaffected by his mom’s words, they lingered in his mind. Still, he insisted, “There’s nothing going on between us.”
Next Jack spoke up--again, surprising him, as Tragan’s dad was not one to butt into his love life. “Listen, don’t let a boyfriend stand in your way.”
At that, Mari tugged on her husband’s sleeve to get his attention. “Wait, Jack, what are you telling him?”
“Just that boyfriends come and go. All’s fair game till the wedding bands go on. That’s my belief.”
“You know…you have a point,” Tragan’s mom said thoughtfully, her hope suddenly renewed. “Tragan--your father has a point!”
“All right, enough,” Tragan whispered, “she’s gonna hear you.” He leaned down to give his mom one last hug. When he shook his dad’s hand, Jack pulled him in for a quick hug, as well. “Be good, son,” Jack remarked generically on his way out.
Good. Right. When it came to Andy, “good” was the last thing he felt like being.
Chapter Fifteen
After his parents left, Tragan found Andy at the kitchen sink. She was pulling her hair up into a messy knot at the back of her head, which exposed more of her neck. He stepped closer, leaned on the counter beside the sink. “Well, the good news is that my parents had an awesome time. They absolutely love you.”
“Oh, good…” Andy said, reaching for the dishwashing soap.
“The bad news is that for the rest of her days my mother will now be saying: ‘Why can’t you meet a girl like Andy’?
She gave a laugh at that. “Technically you did meet me,” she pointed out.
“You know what I mean,” Tragan said. “Seriously, I can see it now. ‘Tragan, that stripper you brought home for Thanksgiving? Why can’t she be more like Andy?’”
Andy shot him a look. “Stripper? Really?”
He shrugged. “You never know,” he said, grinning.
“Personally, I think you should set your sights a little higher,” Andy remarked, tilting her head at him--then corrected herself. “I shouldn’t say that, because I don’t actually know… Tragan, are you seeing anyone now?”
He shook his head. “Nope, no,” he said, straightening up a little. “I’m keeping my options open,” he added for some unknown reason. He felt like an idiot as soon as he’d said it.
“That’s good,” she said generically and set more plates into the sink. As she swished them with soapy water, Tragan found himself thinking about what his mom had said at the door.
“So are you always this great to people’s parents?” he fished. “Or…”
“Or what?”
When she blinked at him, waiting, he lightened his tone, made it more joking. “Or is there just something special about Mari and Jack Barrett?”
Her gaze returned to the dishes in the sink as she proclaimed, “They’re very easy to talk to, for real. I don’t know why you were worried.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“Sure,” she said, teasing him. “Really, though, I had fun hanging out with them. Does your mom have a slight accent?”
“Oh, yeah, she was born in Portugal. Her family moved here when she was fourteen or fifteen. She’s been here for over thirty years so there’s only a trace of the accent. But it comes out a lot stronger when Portuguese relatives come to visit or when she’s talking to my grandmother.”
“You know, you’re lucky your parents are still together. When my dad moved to Switzerland, it was supposed to be a year or so. We didn’t know he’d end up staying forever.”
When her voice trailed off, Tragan probed, “Do you ever see him?”
Andy nodded. “Oh, sure, on Skype. Emma and I visited him in Zurich about two years ago, and he came to the hospital in Chicago when I was sick. Plus, we talk on the phone and email a lot.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah, he’s a good dad. But it’s still not the same as having my mom and him still together, like yours.”
Selfishly, Tragan was impatient to switch topics. He loved his parents to death but he didn’t want to talk about them right now. And he didn’t want to talk about Andy’s parents, either. “Hey--are you and Brad serious?” he blurted.
Andy appeared startled by the shift in subject. At first she hesitated, without replying. But Tragan held her gaze anyway, determined to learn the answer.
Finally, she shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, maybe, sure, could be,” she floundered, breaking their eye contact to reach for a towel. Rubbing it over a wet plate, she babbled on, “He’s a great guy and, you know, I’ve known him for a couple years now, um…plus, we’re still young, it’s not like we have to make any decisions right now…but…my mother likes him and…enh.”
“Enh?” Tragan repeated skeptically. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, no,” she backpedaled, “I mean…Brad’s great.”
“Right, you said that.”
“And he’s very smart--extremely smart.”
“I’m sure he is,” Tragan agreed (since the guy was a doctor, after all).
“Above all, though, he’s aware of my whole situation and he’s very understanding about it.”
Tragan tipped his head at that, confused. “What situation?”
Andy averted her eyes, almost shyly this time. “Tragan, you know. The Bronsteg thing.” Half-heartedly, he gave a nod, although he really didn’t want to validate that. She seemed healthy to him, and besides that, he didn’t want to act like she had such a bad situation. “Who knows, we’ll see.” She let the dishtowel drop on the counter. “Wow, I’ve been rambling. You know what? I’m just gonna finish up these dishes tomorrow. I’m tired,” she insisted a little too abruptly.
“Okay.” He had to assume that his seemingly simple question had hit a nerve.
Before she left, she paused. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, of course.”
“How come you and Ethan never became friends when he was living here? I know he can be sort of prickly and elitist, but Ethan’s actually a good guy.”
“I believe you,” Tragan said casually, then shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t really know him too well. He always seemed so serious, I guess. By the way, why did he want to go to grad school in London anyway? Why not around here?”
“He said it was a great program,” Andy replied. “Also, he’s been talking to this girl online for a while and she lives over there.”
“Ah. That explains everything.”
“What do you mean?” Andy asked, squinting her eyes a bit.
“Nothing, just…sometimes guys will do a lot for a girl, that’s all.” Then, returning to her original question, Tragan edged closer. “But hey, regardless of Ethan… You and I are friends…right?”
When she smiled at him, her face lit up and it almost undid him. He was about to reach out, pull her into his arms and take a chance--to finally kiss that luscious mouth--when she said, “Yes. We’re friends.”
Damn. Even though he’d stupidly set himself up for that, he hated the sound of it.
As she headed to her room, Tragan called after her. “Listen--you really helped me out tonight. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just let me know okay? So we can call it even.”
There was a momentary pause. “You know what? There is something,” Andy told him as she walked back to him.
Tragan’s heart rate kicked up, having the sudden notion that Andy might slide her hands up his chest and press her supple, sexy body into his. If she did, he would unleash such heat on her, he couldn’t guarantee they’d even make it to the bedroom before they were both going at it like animals.
“You know how you tend to pile your dirty, sweaty clothes on the floor--in a, sort of, inconvenient heap tha
t’s blocking the dryer?” Andy said. “Which is charming, by the way.”
Inwardly, Tragan sighed, disappointed. So much for hot, relentless sex in the kitchen. “Yes…?”
“I was thinking that maybe you could use a hamper instead?”
Tragan’s eyes dropped down for a second, before returning to hers. “So that’s all you want from me? My disgusting laundry out of your way.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘disgusting.’”
“Fine, I’ll get a hamper.”
“Specifically I was hoping you could use one with a lid--like I have? I’ll pick you up one.”
“Andy, I think I can buy my own hamper,” Tragan said, trying not to sound churlish.
“If you’re sure. I have no problem treating you; it could be, like, an early Arbor Day present.”
So she wanted to be a smartass. “Hamper with a lid,” he bit out, glaring at her--and fighting a grin. “Got it. Anything else?”
“No, that’s it. For now.” She gave him a sweet little wave that exuded sarcasm. “’Night, roomie!”
Watching her go, he blew out a breath of laughter, in spite of himself. He shook his head as he heard her bedroom door close. Now that he was alone in the kitchen, there seemed only one logical thing for him to do. In fact, he wasn’t clear on anything else at that moment except for this.
He stepped up to the sink and did the rest of the dishes.
Chapter Sixteen
The following night, Tragan’s friend, Matt, was over watching basketball. As the first half of the game neared its end, Tragan leaned back in his armchair, restlessly tossing a rubber ball in the air and catching it. “Damn, Tray, what is your roommate cooking right now? And how can we get in on it?”
“No clue,” Tragan replied, his head tipping toward the ceiling as his eyes followed the movement of the ball. “But she always tells me when it’s ready.”
Just then Andy’s bedroom door opened and she emerged, looking different than Matt remembered. More decked out. Tonight she had eye makeup on, lip gloss, her hair curled. She wore high-heeled boots that extended over her jeans--a look Matt usually found pretty sexy. He glanced over at Tragan and found him noticing her, as well.