Page 55 of Brews & Bartenders

He laughs and claps his hand against the surface. “She’s full of shit. Anything else she burns, or doesn’t cook all the way.”

“Language, Reaf.” I hear his wife scold him from the living room. “Between you and our friends Layla will be running around shouting f bombs.”

“You’re not exactly a saint,” he calls back. He turns back toward me, “When we first met it was pretty much her favorite word.”

These two crack me up, and it’s no wonder they work so well together. They feed off each other, and remind me of stories of my own parents. That is what I’m hoping happens with me and Caroline. “Any advice you can give me about how she cooks them?”

“Oh, no,” he lifts his hands up. “I’m not getting between this battle. She’ll forgive you, if you beat her. But me? She’ll come after me for giving you a heads up. She’s older and scarier.”

I’ve never seen that side of her, but I’ll take his word for it. After all, he’s her brother and knows her better than I ever could. “I guess I better get started on my seasoning while she’s not paying attention to me. Has she said when David is supposed to be home?”

He shakes his head. “All I know is Nathan was supposed to drop him off an hour ago, and he still hasn’t shown up. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

“Yeah.” I turn toward the counter and look through everything I bought at the store. Pushing some items away while bringing some forward. I’m not the greatest cook, I’ll admit that, but I’ve learned a thing or two from my mom when it comes to cooking.

A car pulls into the driveway and I want nothing more than to rush to the door to see who it is. There are only two possible options since everyone is already here. It’s not my place, though. This is Caroline’s house, not mine. I’m not sure why I’m so anxious. Most of it has to be because of Nathan. While I don’t think he’ll make a scene in front of a crowd, I can’t be sure. The last thing I want is for Caroline to be stressed because of his bullshit.

My fears are unwarranted. As soon as the door opens, I hear my sisters asking for David and groaning as they are told he’s not here yet. Caroline introduces my family to hers, and it feels nice to know there aren’t any problems.

“Hi, Mijo.” My mom sets a round, foil covered package on the counter beside me before giving me a hug. “What are you cooking?”

“Chops.” I nod toward the pans where they are evenly split. “Apparently it’s Caroline’s specialty.”

“Who told you that?” the woman in question asks, voice high pitched.

“A little bird.”

“I’m going to murder Reaf for spilling my secrets.” Well, he was right about one thing. And the fact she knew it was him right off the bat tells me he’s ratted her out more than once.

“At least now I know your siblings annoy you as much as mine annoy me.”

My mom smacks me on the arm, “Be nice to your sisters.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “So, is the grill ready to go?”

Caroline puts her hands on her hips and eyes me. “It is. I was hoping David would already be home, though.”

“Why don’t you call him?” It sucks he isn’t here yet and I hope like hell her ex isn’t doing it on purpose. “I’ll work on the salad so it’ll be ready before we go outside.”

“Okay.” She worries her bottom lip and walks out of the kitchen, through the living room, and disappears down the hallway.

“Be gentle with her. It must be hard talking to an ex.”

“I know, and he doesn’t make it easy. I just don’t know if I should step in and help.” I grab the lettuce and begin chopping it.

“Not until she says it’s okay.” She pats my arm and walks toward the living room. “Also, don’t touch those.” She points toward the foil package. “I brought them for David.”

“You don’t bring me homemade tortillas anymore.”

“Because you’re grown and you know how to make them. You’re just too lazy to do it.”

She’s not wrong. It’s such a pain in the ass, and not my favorite thing in the world. The results are worth it, though. “True.”

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“No, you go visit. I’m going to finish up here and see if Caroline needs me to do anything else.”

It doesn’t take me long to finish the salad. Caroline still hasn’t come out of the hallway, and I’m worried something may have happened. I make my way to where I last saw her. She’s standing in the middle of what I assume is her room, her voice an angry whisper. “He was supposed to be home two hours ago.”

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