Page 46 of Reluctantly You

“I’ll have wine,” Matt interrupts before Coop can list off an entire grocery list.

“I’ll take a beer,” I say, and Max chimes in that he’ll have one as well.

Coop nods, walking to the fridge, pulling out our drinks and handing one to me. I crack it open and take a long sip, needing some liquid courage in this moment. I feel so out of place, so fucking weird. I don’t know how to act or what to say. I don’t know who I am in this moment.

Who the fuck am I anymore?

“Thirsty?” Matt asks with a small laugh, and I shake my head.

“Yeah and nervous.”

His lips part at my sincerity and then he slugs me in the arm.

“Don’t worry. Just don’t be an asshole.”

“It comes naturally,” I reply, and he grins at me.

“I don’t blame you, not entirely. We get it from our dad.”

Good fuck. I take another long drink, feeling the sting in the back of my throat. Shit. I still don’t know who my biological dad is. I know I could find out, but I don’t know if I want to know.

I don’t fucking know what to do.

A small burp escapes my lips, and I run a hand across my mouth. It doesn’t matter right now. I just need to get through this dinner without pissing everyone off. I just need to not be myself.

“So, we have a caprese salad for an appetizer,” Coop explains, pulling a plate from the fridge. There are tomatoes, basil, and fresh mozzarella cheese, drizzled in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

It looks fucking good.

“Do you like this?” Coop asks. “I hope you don’t have an aversion to tomatoes or cheese.”

“Nah, looks fucking good.”

He grins at my compliment and then moves to the stove, stirring something in the pot.

“Smells really good too,” I add, and Max chuckles.

“You don’t need to kiss ass,” he whispers, and I narrow my gaze at him.

“Yeah, I do,” I reply as I scoop some tomatoes and cheese onto a small plate and shovel it into my mouth. “Mmm.”

“That olive oil is from Italy. From Coop’s parents’ home,” Matt explains, looking proud.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and get ready to have your mind blown. Coop’s a really good cook.”

“Hey, don’t brag too hard. It’s more of a hobby. It’s fun for me. To take care of people. Cooking is one way that I can do that,” Coop replies.

Just as he says that, he walks over to me, a spoon in his hand. He extends it out to me, and I stare at it.

What the fuck is he doing?

“Taste it,” he prods, and I can’t say no. I’m not going to say that tonight, so I just let my lips part as he slides the spoon between my lips. Flavors explode on my tongue and I bite back a groan.

“Good?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“Yeah.”

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