After a few minutes he says, “You ready to head back to the office?”
I shake my head.
“Do you want to come watch me play Fortnite?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Behind his glasses, his eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
He checks his phone for the time. “I’m meeting some people to play in ten minutes. Come back with me.”
It’s a strange invitation and it’s not lost on me that for the second time today a guy is asking me to do something, but this time it’s different. Charlie’s different, and I follow him to the Wayward Sun.
14
“Can someone bring me the spatula?”
“Think fast!”
“Dammit dude, that could have impaled me.”
“Language.”
“How is a spatula going to impale you? It has a flat surface?”
“Duh, the end. God, you’re an idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot, you’re a jackass.”
“Language!”
“Who has the cheese? If I’m supposed to put cheese on these burgers, then someone better hand me some cheese. Now.”
I’m sitting in an Adirondack chair in the backyard of the Wayward Sun. The coffee shop is closed, Growley is sitting on my lap, and I’m watching the boys make dinner.
And fight about making dinner.
And get admonished by Sierra every other word for cursing.
It may be the best moment of my life.
Charlie brought me over to the house just as the boys finished helping Sierra close the shop, and it was immediate sensory overload. The house was filled with noise, everything from fighting to shouting to laughter and joking. When Sierra invited me to dinner I almost bailed, but she told me to stay, begged me for companionship. “I can only take so much testosterone.”
So I stayed. For her.
I ease Growley to the ground and head into the kitchen, where Sierra cuts tomatoes and onions for the burgers. Feeling the desire to be helpful in some way, I grab the head of lettuce and pull off pieces, stacking them on a large patter on the kitchen table.
“I hear you’ve been watching Supernatural,” she says suddenly. “How far have you watched?”
“We’re almost at the end of season one. Thanks for letting us borrow it. I’m enjoying it.” I wipe my hands on the rag hanging from the stove. “Leelee’s digging it, too.”
“Obviously, what’s not to love?” She smirks. “So who’s your favorite, Sam or Dean?”
I wrinkle my nose. I’ve thought about this. Hard. There’s only one answer. “Do I have to choose?”
She laughs. “Nope. It’s a fantasy and in a fantasy, you can keep them both.”