Page 40 of A Sudden Romance

“I’ll get my shoes first.”

“Never mind. Stay comfortable. I’ll grab it.” Sabastian elbowed past him, but his friend was already sliding out of his slippers and into his boots. Setting the box down by the entrance, Sabastian took off his shoes and left them on the boot tray. He then tossed his hoodie on the sofa.

A six-foot artificial Christmas tree strung with paper ornaments flashed multicolored lights across the TV. It hadn’t been there last week.

He carried the box to the small kitchen and set it on the laminate floor. Then he washed his hands, retrieved gloves, and slid them on. A dull pain thrummed in his fingers from smashing them in the drawer two days ago, but it scarcely compared to the throbbing ache in his heart.

Afternoon light streamed through the kitchen window, but needing more, he switched on the fluorescents, their low buzz doing nothing to calm his threatening headache.

Martina kept her counter empty. Perfect. He’d need all the space when he chopped tomatoes, onions, and chicken on different cutting boards. Knowing where to find all the pots and pans saved him time investigating the cupboards, so he walked to the black fridge brightened up by vivid kids’ drawings and coloring pages and family photos. He reached for two large pots from the space above the fridge, then filled them with water.

When he turned to the stove, the digital clock showed two ten. He retrieved the cutting boards.

“How much do I owe you this time?” Leo put down the box with grilled chicken breasts already sliced and different cheeses for the sauce. Not having the patience to grill chicken today, Sabastian bought it from the deli.

“When I buy my house someday, you’ll owe me house cleaning big time.”

He used Leo’s company to clean The Peak. His friend had three of his cousins working for him, and two of his friends were managers. The rest of the employees were part-time in the winter since the business was slow. Leo’d made enough money two years ago to buy a truck to transport ladders, equipment, and larger supplies to his work sites.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Leo slapped Sabastian on the back.

“I’m good.” He pulled out the tomato package from the box and settled them in the sink to rinse later.

Arms folded across his chest, Leo leaned against the nearby granite composite counter. “Everything okay?”

“Of course.” Sabastian set the onions on one of the cutting boards. “Where’s Martina?”

“She went to buy sodas on her way to get the kids.”

She’d probably used Leo’s truck. “Do I need to move my truck, so she doesn’t have to park on the street?”

“No need. I’m assuming Iris isn’t going to cook with you today?”

Sabastian’s jaw clenched as he pictured her sitting across from Grey, who was probably making her laugh. He whacked the knife, and the board thumped when he split the onion in half as if he were chopping firewood. “I cook alone every year, don’t I?”

“I have a kitten to feed and tables to set up before Martina returns, but I better keep an eye on you.” Leo stopped next to him as Sabastian set the knife on the board. He then snatched half the onion to peel off the skin before reaching for the knife and putting it on the microwave in the corner. “It’s a good idea for you not to peel the onion with a knife.”

Sabastian groaned. The onion irritated his eyes, which didn’t help his already downhearted spirit. He held out his hand for the knife without looking Leo’s way. “Do you want to get this dinner done or not?”

“Talk to me, amigo.” Concern laced Leo’s voice before he shifted his shoulder, almost standing between Sabastian and the cutting board, crowding into his space to force eye contact.

“She’s on a date.” With someone in her league. Sometimes it had to come down to money. He reached for the knife on the microwave and resumed his task, dicing more aggressively than normal.

“I thought she didn’t have a boyfriend.” Leo intruded in the silence.

Sabastian opened a cabinet, grabbed a bowl, and poured the diced onions into it.

“The guy asked her out right in front of me.” It sickened him. He positioned another onion, this time careful as he cut it in half from root to stem before peeling the skin off.

“Huh. I’m under the impression Iris feels the same way about you.”

Sabastian snorted and continued dicing. “She has a strange way of expressing her feelings. Otherwise, why agree to go on a date with someone else?”

“Your way of expressing yourself is even more strange.” Leo’s voice cut through the repetitive chopping sounds that were speaking for Sabastian now as he diced the onion as fast as he could. “You’ve harbored a crush on this woman for ages. She comes home every summer and Christmas, then leaves without you getting the nerve to tell her how you feel.”

Finished cutting, Sabastian used the knife to swipe the onion into the bowl, whisking it away easier than he could whisk away his friend’s question. “How am I supposed to compete with a rich man?”

“My friend, I do not think money is a big deal to her, not like you’re making it out to be. While, yes, she has money, she didn’t give me the impression she prefers the company of rich people or focuses on a person’s income bracket.”

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