Page 100 of Employing Patience

The pants are tight, the shirt is loose, and he’s got a jacket thrown over his arm.

“It’s way too hot for this,” he complains.

“I’ll turn up the air.”

“You’re generous,” he deadpans. “Wish I’d gotten the dress.”

I laugh and adjust the AC, then head into the kitchen to start pulling everything we need out.

“How did my sister rope you into this?” I call across the space.

Joey airplanes Gus onto one of the kitchen stools, and Alice climbs up beside her brother.

“I met her in Freddy’s, and these two told her I was your boyfriend.”

“And I bet you didn’t correct her.” Which, surprisingly, I don’t mind.

“Only a million times, but I don’t think it made a difference.”

The brief flicker of elation dies. Apparently, him not claiming me is a disappointing thing, which … I probably should look into a little more. Especially since it doesn’t surprise me that Mariana didn’t believe it, but it does surprise me that I don’t actually care that she didn’t. Keeping up an image with my friends is one thing, but Mariana could always see through me. I’ll bet she’s thrilled at the thought of me settling down. Not that I am. Even if I am only sleeping with the one man for the foreseeable future. It’s still fun. Just a different kind of fun.

“What are you doing?” Gus asks.

Joey shushes him. “Looks like your uncle is thinking. Don’t interrupt. It’s hard work when you’re a grown-up.”

I smother my impulse to flip him off.

“But I want to cook pastéis de nata.” Gus moans.

“What?”

“Tarts,” Alice tells Joey.

I refocus on grabbing the ingredients and setting them out on the countertop. We’ve made pastéis de nata so many times before that I mostly let the two of them take over and only worry about the hot stuff. It’s sweet watching the way they talk Joey through it. He’s also a worse cook than a five-year-old, so I make a mental note to never accept if he invites me over for dinner one night.

Not that he would because we don’t do things like that. The disappointment makes me wonder why we don’t do things like that. Sure, the sex is great, and I’m always down for more, but taking him out, holding his hand, having someone to laugh and flirt with while we eat … it sounds pretty wonderful.

My friends and their happiness flash through my mind. The guys who have found partners: Payne, Griff, Orson … I loved that. For them. It isn’t something I ever thought I’d buy into myself. Who needs monogamy?

Turns out it’s not a need with me.

It’s a want.

And I want Joey in it with me.

As a … boyfriend? I guess that’s what I’m implying.

I glance up at Joey, at his cute concentration line and the way he’s listening to Alice so intently. The flour is smudged over his faded freckles, and that ever-present chunk of hair has slipped free of his knot.

The word “boyfriend” settles over me, and this deep click resounds through me, like I’ve unlocked something I never knew I wanted.

But how the fuck does someone even bring up that kind of conversation?

I try to relax into the day, owning my part as Cinderella and really playing up the princess card. Oh no, the kitchen is a mess? Servants! Grab a rag!

“Who knew the great Art de Almeida was worried about getting his hands dirty,” Joey murmurs beside me while the kids argue about who gets the TV first. The pastéis de nata are already in the oven, and the smell is making my mouth water.

“We both know I’m okay with getting very, very dirty.”

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