Page 23 of Faking It with my Bestie's Billionaire Brother

"What do you mean? I use my kitchen."

"Using the microwave doesn't count. When's the last time you even opened your oven?"

He looked away, then, eyeing something curiously on the shelf above my head.

"Uh-huh, that's what I thought."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. I was just looking at these…what the hell are these? Are they even allowed to sell these types of things in the grocery store?" He grabbed a big, red, rubber toy from off the shelf, showing it off to me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

I waited until his eyes met mine. "That’s a dog toy, genius, but now I know where your mind is at. Makes me feel really comfortable, having to stay with you."

He didn’t comment, just put the dog toy back and trailed behind me as I went about my business down each aisle. "Tell me something, Duke, have you ever actually been in a grocery store?"

He laughed. "Of course I have, albeit it's been a while, but I'm not completely useless in the normal world."

I laughed. "Normal world. You talk like you're an alien."

I regretted the words as soon as I said them, because I saw the distance form in his expression, and I couldn't help but feel that my words hit a nerve.

"Look, why don't you make yourself useful," I started and then rattled off a list of ingredients that I would need to make my lasagna. To his credit, he took his task seriously, though he never strayed more than a few feet from me, even after I told him that nothing was likely to happen in the middle of the supermarket.

"I made a promise to my sister, Ava, and I intend to keep it. I am nothing if not a man of my word."

I nodded. "Well, as annoying as you are, I can respect that."

He gave me a small smile, and I hated the way it made my insides flutter.

Really, Ava, you need to get laid or something, it’s getting ridiculous.

And then, I thought about all the things that I needed to pick up at my apartment, including one that might…help my little predicament, and I felt a little better.

Going through the grocery store with Spencer was surprisingly…fun? I couldn't say that I was one who usually had fun in the grocery store, but the sense of wonder over things that he must not have laid eyes on in ages was entertaining, to say the least. And even though it was all for show, it was kind of nice to do such a mundane thing with another person—plus, holding the hand of such a hot guy sure didn’t hurt. I was usually here in my clay-caked overalls and a rag covering my hair. Now, I was strutting around that store with this tall, built man who had no qualms about putting his hands on me.

The handholding was one thing, but when we had to stop suddenly for a kid rushing out in front of us, his hand immediately flew to the small of my back to steady me, and then, it just stayed there as we continued shopping.

It was unexpected how easy his touches seemed to be. I was expecting a more robotic response from him, but he took to it like a duck to water—almost like he couldn't keep his hands off of me. But that could've been just wishful thinking, even if I didn't really want to admit that to myself.

As we were loading the groceries onto the conveyer belt to check out, he asked mildly, "So, the Sunday evening dinner happens every week without fail?"

I nodded. "Yup. There are very few excuses that Ma will accept. Unless somebody is forced to work or they're just deathly ill, it's expected that you show up. But I don't mind. I like knowing that I'm going to reconnect with everybody at least once a week. It gets too easy to get spread to the winds with everybody being so busy, especially since Pop died…" I trailed off, feeling an explicable lump that always formed in my throat whenever I mentioned him.

It had only been two years, but I thought that I would have been able to at least say his name without feeling like I was going to cry by now, but evidently, I wasn't quite there yet.

Spencer seemed to notice my reaction. "I'm guessing you two were close."

I nodded, unable to say anything else, and he mercifully let it drop. I appreciated that from him, as most people kept asking questions, regardless of how I reacted. But Pop being gone was still too raw for me.

He hadn't been just any father, he had been a traditional patriarch—not in the ruling with an iron fist kind of way, but just a guy I could always go to with any problem, big or small. He was taken so suddenly from us that it left all of us in limbo, especially Ma, but bless her heart, she'd been trying to pull it together. She’d kept the Sunday dinners going, making sure that all of her kids were accounted for and knew that they were loved.

I had to admire her strength, not to mention the fact that it was hard to keep five grown kids all in contact with one another. Everybody was so busy with their various jobs and relationships that it would have been totally understandable if we went weeks without speaking to one another. But between Ma and my oldest brother, Leo, there was no way that they were going to let the Moretti family grow apart. I knew that the struggle to keep us tight-knit was just going to get more difficult as the years went by. Once kids started appearing in the picture, I didn’t know how we were all going to keep in such close contact, but for now, it was just us and Ma trying to keep it together in Dad's wake.

"We trade off every week who makes the main dish. Somebody always brings a side dish or dessert or whatever, but this week, it's my turn. I always make a lasagna."

By that point, we had finished checking out, where Spencer had kept true to his word and paid for everything, and we were now transferring the groceries into the trunk of his car. "You don't want to branch out and try new things?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes as I settled into the front seat of his luxurious car once we were done. That had been another weird thing to see, Spencer driving. He promised me that there was security tailing us, but he had decided that I was right about the need to look more casual in order to drive home the family-friendly image. So, he had opted to drive us to the store instead of having his driver take us.

"I would love to try all these new recipes. When I graduated high school, my nonna gave me a photocopied copy of her recipe book, and I am dying to use it, but it doesn't work for just me because the recipes usually feed twelve at least. But Ma is...how shall I say, territorial about her recipes. So, I'm always afraid that I'm going to step on her feet. She has it in her head that I only make lasagna every time it's my turn, so that's exactly what I do, and I don't step out of place."

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