Page 61 of Still The One

‘No thank you,’ Foster replies.

Matty glances at the coffee table, laden with food and drinks. ‘Did I interrupt something, or not get my invitation?’ he teases, raising his eyebrows and glancing at us.

‘You could join us, of course,’ I say, moving to the chair across the coffee table.

How am I supposed to say no? He flew across the country to bring Foster his things. Obviously he’s staying for dinner,and Foster and I will try to continue our lingering – yet never finished – conversation later.

‘We’re just eating dinner, as all humans do, and I’m not sure there’s enough for three?’ Foster says, shooting me a look that readsI’m so sorry.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Matty says, heaving Foster’s massive travel duffel bag off his shoulder, the weight of it causing him to stagger as he drops it to the floor with a thud. He grabs a container of chicken and a plastic fork from the pile of cutlery that came with the takeout.

‘I’ve delivered everything that was requested,’ he announces wearily. ‘All the way from the other side of the country.’ He fills his face with a forkful of chicken, nodding as he chews. ‘This is excellent kung pao. Also, Jeff sends his regards, although they come with a less than friendly sentiment.’ He flashes Foster the finger, fork still in hand.

‘Tell Jeff to fuck off,’ Foster says with a smirk.

I look at the giant bag, then at Foster. ‘Exactly how long do you think you’re staying?’ I kid.

‘Until he’s healed enough to take care of himself because I got shit to do and competing athletes to train,’ Matty responds on Foster’s behalf, still munching on the chicken.

‘I’ll be back at comps in six months, man. In fact, Eve’s got me walking blocks a day, and I started physical therapy this week, so I’ll be back better than ever before you know it.’

I shake my head. ‘No. You’ll be able tostartriding again in six months, but no competing.’ My words echo the doctor’s instructions.

Foster rolls his eyes. ‘He’s a surgeon, he doesn’t grasp the lifestyle of professional athletes,’ he rebukes. ‘We heal quickly.’

Matty agrees and the conversation moves on to how good a shape athletes are in and I’d deny it, but the proof is sitting nextto me and I ogled it just recently to the point of needing a cold shower.

‘Well, this was amazing.’ Matty sets the now empty Chinese takeout box back onto the table. He just ate an entire container of kung pao chicken and he’s not even breaking a sweat. I’d be sniffling after one portion. That’s Foster’s favorite and he didn’t get any.

‘I’ve only got a couple of hours between flights,’ Matty says. He glances my way. ‘Either take good care of him or bury him deep so I don’t end up with more problems,’ he says to me with a hint of laughter.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ I say with a sly smile.

Foster shakes his head. ‘Thanks, Matty. I’ll call you in a couple days.’

As soon as the door closes behind him, I fix my gaze on Foster’s bag, dropping to the floor to unzip and unpack it for him.

‘I’m sorry about that, he was supposed to text to make sure the timing was OK. Not show up and eat all my kung pao chicken?’ He grabs the container from the table, disappointed as he walks it to the garbage, stomping on the pedal to open the lid and tossing it in. ‘I didn’t even get one piece.’

‘Sorry, Fost. We can order another box, on me since you were nice enough to put all this together?’

‘Alright,’ he says, grabbing his phone and tapping the screen as he sits back down in front of the coffee table. ‘You don’t need to unpack for me,’ he insists after sitting his phone down.

‘I don’t mind.’

One by one I pull out an array of items. Toiletries. A pillow. Clothes. Shoes. Underwear. Not one thing in a floral or neon-colored print. However, I am confused by the blue heavily taped shoebox.

‘“Never Open”.’ I read the words on the top aloud. ‘What is this?’

Foster clears his throat. ‘Um…thatis my Eve box.’

23

GUY ‘FOSTER’

Eve’s brows furrow, creating lines on her forehead. Her eyes dart from the box to me, searching for answers. Her lips are pressed together in a puzzled expression, and she tilts her head to one side, clearly trying to make sense of the situation.

‘What’s an Eve box?’ she asks. ‘And why does it look like a bomb?’

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