Page 23 of Like You Know

“Come on, fridge, do me a solid,” I mumbled to myself as I opened the refrigerator. To my utter astonishment, it was stocked—and not just with the basics. This was next level. There were half a dozen bottles of coconut water lined up neatly on the top shelf, cold cuts, fresh vegetables in the crisper, at least four different types of cheese, and containers of what looked like leftovers.

I lifted the lids on a few of the tubs. “Don’t suppose any of you contain mac and cheese?”

“Nope, but I’d be happy to make you some,” a male voice answered.

I literally jumped. The contents of the fridge door rattled with how hard I slammed it shut.

“Jesus! Fuck!” I pressed a hand to my chest, willing my heart to stop trying to bust out of my rib cage as I glared at Cal. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry!” He held his hands out and winced, backing up a step. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s my mom?”

“She’s in a meeting that’s running late.” He frowned slightly as he moved into the kitchen, grabbed a pot and macaroni from the pantry, and dug around in the fridge.

I watched him, noting how comfortable he was in my kitchen, how he knew where everything was.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” I said as I perched on a stool, putting the island between us.

“What do you mean?” He stayed focused on the cheese he was grating.

“No man has hung around this long. Either Mom gets bored with them, or they decide her bullshit isn’t worth the money she comes with. No one has lasted longer than two weeks.”

He leveled a disapproving look at me, but I was only stating the truth. Not my fault if he couldn’t handle it.

“That’s probably because none of them bothered to get to know her. Not really. Your mother is—”

“Save it.” I cut him off. “Don’t waste your time trying to convince me that you think she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. Vivian doesn’t put much stock in my opinion on anything, let alone the men she’s fucking. She hardly even remembers she has a daughter most of the time.”

He was at the stove with his back to me, but I saw how his shoulders slumped with his sigh. He didn’t speak as he served me up a steaming bowl of fresh, homemade mac and cheese.

“I understand why you’re wary, Amaya.” He slid a fork across the island to me. “I get why you might feel like you need to scare me off, or maybe you’re testing me. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know shit, Bob.” I flashed him a saccharine smile, deliberately getting his name wrong, before scooping some cheesy pasta into my mouth. Dammit! It was actually really good—creamy and rich, with a slight biteyness from the aged cheddar he’d added.

He ignored my bratty retort. “But I love your mother. Trust me when I say that neither of us expected this, but we genuinely care for each other. I have my own money, so I’m not after hers. I have no ulterior motives. I just want to make her happy.” He shrugged. “And I want to get to know you. You’re important to her, so you’re important to me.”

“She’s got a funny way of showing it,” I grumbled. I didn’t know how to take what he was saying. He seemed genuine, but I didn’t have much experience with genuine, so maybe he was totally bullshitting me. Lacking the energy to try to puzzle it out, I made my way over to the pantry to distract myself. The mac and cheese tasted amazing, but it was missing something—some other element from when I used to have it as a kid.

I found turmeric and chili powder and sprinkled some into the bowl just as the click of heels on marble announced my mother’s arrival. She breezed into the room with a bright smile, then froze when she spotted me.

I stirred the spices into my meal and took a tentative bite. Close, but something was still missing. Maybe it needed more turmeric. I reached for the small jar of the yellow stuff, but suddenly Mom was there, moving it out of my reach.

I frowned up at her, but she’d already turned her back to me as she poked around in the pantry. She emerged a second later, came to my side of the island, and added some cumin to my bowl.

“Turmeric, cumin, and chili,” she said as she stirred it in and held a forkful up to my mouth. Confused as fuck, I took the bite.

Holy shit! That’s it!I bugged my eyes out at my mom as I chewed and slumped in my seat. She gave me a warm smile and ran her hand through my hair. The look on her face, the affection—it felt real.

The attention from my mom and the flavor on my tongue made me feel like a little girl again.

“Sri Lankan mac and cheese,” she murmured, her smile turning melancholy. “It was your favorite when you were little. It was your dad’s favorite too. He used to make it all the time.”

I’d gotten through half the bowl, but the last bite caught against a lump in my throat.

Memories came flooding back. My dad in the kitchen, turmeric stains on the counters, his eyes shining with so much love. She hadn’t so much as mentioned him since ... I couldn’t even remember when. I could hardly believe she’d brought him up at all.

I took a shuddering breath, my vision turning blurry.

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