Page 106 of Storm in a Teacup
“I prefer ‘dick,’” I say, then hear what I said and groan as everyone around me laughs. “And I really don’t want to talk about this with my father.”
Everyone can most likely tell I am too hungover to discuss this now, so they leave me be and let me get my food. Most of the bridal party is here, but one person is missing: Atti. I slide up next to Paul at the egg station. “Where’s the tall one?”
Paul flashes his eyes. “Left early this morning, apparently.”
“Good,” I say.
“Yeah.” Paul turns to me. “So, you and Benaren’tdating?”
“Nope,” I say. I take a scoop of eggs and glance at him. “If you’re interested, I can put in a good word.”
Paul chuckles. “Ben’s great, but I generally don’t go after men who are desperately in love with other people.”
I take a bagel next, before moving onto the coffee that my stomach is not prepared to drink. My head needs it badly, though. “Ah, he told you about David, then?”
Paul cocks his head. “Who’s David?”
I stare at him, confused. He doesn’t say anymore, just gives me a wink, then heads back to sit at a table with Kensie, Jen, and a couple others from the bridal party. I rejoin my family, my mother now at the table as well.
She looks me up and down and says, “Someone’s hungover. I heard you were comparing dicks last night.”
I bite into my food. With a partially full mouth, I say, “Comparing implies that there is a question of which is better”—I swallow—“when in fact the answer of which is better is obvious. Mostly because I like the human better that the better dick is attached to.”
My dad sighs into his tea. “Perhaps we could stop saying the word ‘dick’ at the breakfast table?”
“You said it first,” I remind him. I force down a sip of coffee with a grimace. “Though, I agree.”
With that request, talk of dicks stops. We finish up our breakfast, and then my family insists I show them around Edinburgh (even though they have all been here many times before).
“We want to seeyourEdinburgh.” Which is exactly what theysaid last time.
Mom and Dad together for the first time in probably three years, since Chelsea’s wedding, is weird, but they act as they always do. As old friends who are in a petty argument that could be solved simply by sleeping together. It’s weird having divorced parents who still love each other, but are notinlove anymore. Though, as situations like this go, I know how lucky I am.
I take them all over the city. And, while I go back and forth on it for a while, I end up taking them to Ben’s cafe. They asked to see it, so what was I supposed to say? No? I have complicated feelings for the owner that I’m not willing to face at the moment?
Isla is behind the counter when we walk in. “Hey,” I say. “It’s a Sunday. What are you doing here? Did Ben take the day off?”
“Ben’s in the kitchen,” she says carefully. Okay, my voice may have been a bit panicky. She continues, “Gemma needed the day off and I never mind working.” She glances at my family looming behind me.
“Right. Then let me start with an apology because I have brought my entire family with me.”
Half her mouth quirks up. “The more the merrier. The entire Jenkins clan!” She looks to my dad first, “What’ll you have?”
As Isla takes their orders, I slip around and head into the kitchen to see Ben. He doesn’t acknowledge me when I enter, but jumps when I place a hand on his arm. He removes a headphone from one ear and smiles when he sees me. I might be imagining it, but I swear he looks…relieved?
“Hey, sugar. Sorry—playing my music too loud. Isla has been playing moody, hipster music all day. It’s driving me mad.”
“What are you listening to?”
“Don’t make fun.” He hands me one headphone, and I slip it in my ear. The music resumes, playingSpice Up Your Lifeby the Spice Girls.
I bite my lip. “Why would I tease you? This is a great song.”
“I’ve been listening to their entire discography.”
“Okay, that may be a little excessive.”
“Hard disagree.” He removes the headphone from my ear and slips them both into the pocket of his jeans. “How’s your head?”
