Page 53 of Can't Kiss the Chef

Byron opens his mouth before he can get a word out. I clamp his lips shut with my thumb and pointer finger.

“Only my Nonno is allowed to use that nickname. I fucking hate it.”

I let go of his lips and if the twinkle in his eye isn’t enough of an indicator, the smirk tugging at the right side of his mouth says it all.

“Whatever you want, Lowy.”

I’m about to protest, when my mouth snaps shut. I blink a couple of times. Shake my head. That can’t be Dalton with his mouth to another woman’s ear. He tucks a strand of hair behind it and whispers in a very sensual way. She is beautiful. My exact opposite, with long blonde hair and legs that seem to go on for days.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Byron open his mouth before closing it again.

“Just say it,” I snap, then cringe. “I’m sorry; I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I know that you spent the last couple of hours with him and his friends Lola, but that means nothing to a guy like Dalton. He only sees what’s in front of him, and that’s not always going to be you.”

“That’s real rich coming from you.” My words are sharp, but part of me still wonders how many girls Byron had in front of him this summer when I wasn’t around.

“What are you talking about?” His eyebrows pinch as his eyes sear into my soul. How can he be this clueless?

I huff. “I was in New York this summer Byron and I saw you all cuddled up with that girl.”

“What girl? I wasn’t with a girl this summer.” His eyebrows are pinched. Then his eyes grow.

“Was she blonde?” He asks. His grin is growing.

I nod, confused on what he can be so happy about.

“Lola, that was my cousin, Isabel.”

His cousin? That can’t be right.

“You have a cousin?”

Byron snorts. “Yeah I have a few. She was visiting colleges in the northeast. She pushed her flight to Florida back a few days and came to New York to hang with me and my mom.”

I’m going to be sick. This can’t be true, it feels like my entire world just got turned upside down.

Byron’s eyes soften.

“I’m sorry Lo, you should have just asked.” There is no judgment in his voice. He leans forward like he wants to take a step towards me, but pulls back when I turn my head back in the direction of my brother.

“I get it, don’t worry. I’m going to go make sure Oliver isn’t puking in a trashcan somewhere.”

Of course he is understanding and it only makes me feel more guilty. I wouldn’t blame him if he was mad at me forjumping to conclusions. Instead he remembers my insecurities and doesn’t throw them in my face. He’s a good friend.

You push away everyone who’s supposed to care about you.The little voice in my head reminds me.

He turns away. Leaving me to deal with Dalton.

I inhale deeply, digging for the confidence to confront Dalton. He needs to know that I’m not doing this thing if I can’t trust him.

I catch his eyes as I strut over to the bar he is at, and I do mean strut. I have to make these legs look as long as possible.

“Hey,” I squeeze Dalton’s arm. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Umm sure,” He looks confused. “I don’t think you got to meet Morgan before.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” I offer a curt wave.

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