Page 44 of Butterfly Effect

We loiter in the foyer. His fist knocks into his thigh, awkward and unsure.

“Are you gonna show me around, or…?

“Right!” His palm meets his temple with a slap. “Come on in. Might as well get familiar.” Wade’s ruinous smirk reappears. “My girlfriend would spenda lotof time here.”

“Is that so?”

Lights switch on as we move through the spaces. Motion-sensing, I’m guessing. One space flows seamlessly into the next. Dining, kitchen, living.

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t…this.

Okay, that’s a lie.

I expected a bachelor pad. I expected black leather couches, minimalist furniture, a neon Labatt Blue sign, bar stools instead of dining chairs, maybe a bright red rug, and animal heads on the wall. Or something.

Notthis.

This is cozy.

The kitchen is immaculate. State-of-the-art. There’s a sage green subway tile backsplash paired with gray cabinetry and a cooktop with, like, ten ranges. Fridge doors span an entire wall. Copper pots and pans hang from a rack above the massive island.

“Go stand by the island so I can take a picture.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I’m gonna post it on Instagram, smartass. Elliott sent me another text saying we haven’t been keeping up. Now, do it. And be casual. And less mad-looking.”

I roll my eyes. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me.” With an exhale, I lean against the counter edge, curling my hands around it and giving him a fake smile while looking off-camera.

The tip of his tongue pokes from the seam of his lips as he concentrates on snapping a few photos. He shows me the screen.

“Not bad.”

He types the wordsminein the caption, and my stomach flips.

It’s fake. It’s fake.

“Jeez, I sound like Radek,” he says with a scoff. “What a sap.”

“The world’s a stage, and we’re just players.”

Wade frowns. “That’s not the quote.”

“As if you’d know,” I snipe back, wandering through the kitchen. “Who cooks here?”

“Me, sometimes.” Wade shrugs. “Usually, Mathieu does.” Before I follow up with another question, he continues. “My personal chef.”

“How fancy.”

Long benches flank a farmhouse-style table. A spacious c-shaped sectional and its modular ottomans fill the living area across from the TV. He reads my curious look.

“The guys from the team come over a lot.”

Most surprising of all are the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining several walls. I tilt one out by the spine.The Importance of Being Earnestby Oscar Wilde.

“That’s the first edition. From 1895.”

I gape.

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