I rubbed the back of my neck. All this made me feel queasy. “Thanks,” I murmured distractedly. It went without saying that I would talk to her later, but right now, I was gonna stew in my anger and get some work done. I didn’t think what she’d done was right, and it stung.

I twisted my cap and trailed over to the fridges in the back.

* * *

By the time Alessia returned half an hour later, I was reaching my boiling point. So was the water for the pasta I was making. It didn’t help that I had both Griffin and Tracy bitching at each other at the prep station behind me. I contemplated heading out to the grill to work there, but Griffin would need my workstation there soon.

She didn’t greet anyone, just walked over to the sinks and washed her hands.

I dumped the pasta in the big pot, then moved over to stir the marinara. This was an extra that I brought for my pop. Spaghetti, marinara, and the meatballs I’d learned to make in Italy. They were a fantastic mix of salsiccia, ground beef, ground pork, egg yolk, breadcrumbs, garlic, and herbs. Something he could microwave and eat when Ma wasn’t home.

Alessia tied a short apron around her hips and had no choice but to pick the only workstation that was left. The one next to mine.

She wanted to play the silent game? Fine by me.

I bent over to check the vegetable skewers I was roasting in the oven.

Everything would be taken out of the oven or off the stove approximately ten minutes before it was done. That way, I’d only need half an hour or so to finish it all at my parents’ place tomorrow.

Except the brisket. The brisket was already done and waiting in the freezer. Which reminded me, I had to pack a couple Wilton tips for the sauce dispenser. I’d told Ma I could get her a set of her own, but it was too “modern” for her to use anything other than a regular gravy boat.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Alessia sneaking a furtive glance at Griffin and Tracy. Then her gaze flicked my way, and she twisted her mouth and stepped closer.

“What you did was totally uncalled-for,” she said quietly.

I snorted and side-eyed her. “Are you fucking kidding me?” This wasn’t the straightforward communication I’d been aiming for, but she’d caught me in a moment when I had no desire to be mature. What she’d done burned, and we weren’t alone. “Excuse me.” I motioned for the cutting board where I’d set the bowl of baby potatoes I’d washed.

She sidestepped and glared at the floor. “You know what, I’ll just start the dessert.”

“You do that,” I drawled.

Fuck.

I blew out a breath and glanced over at Griffin and Tracy. For once, they were working in silence. Probably because they were nosy as shit and listening in.

“What was that, Adam?” Tracy said in a high-pitched voice. “Oh, you love me? I love you too!” Then he made kissing noises.

I shot him a murderous look over my shoulder and noticed Alessia do the same.

* * *

Where are you? You wanna be pissy, that’s fine, but don’t stay out all night without letting me know you’re safe.

I pressed send and threw the phone next to me on the couch, so fucking annoyed that I couldn’t sit still.

I’d spent the day cooking, first downstairs—preparing everything for tomorrow—and then up here to finalize the Valentine’s menu. No sign of Alessia. She’d taken off after making the foundation of a chocolate truffle cake that she’d decorate in the morning, and I hadn’t seen her since.

I bit at a cuticle and tapped my foot restlessly against my knee. I hadn’t even bothered turning on the TV. I couldn’t focus anyway.

My phone buzzed, and I flipped the phone to see her name on the screen.

I was going to text you. All night? It’s eight o’clock, Adam. Don’t push me. I’m still mad. I’m hanging out with Isla until I’ve calmed down enough to face you.

I chuckled bitterly and typed out a reply.

You’re mad? You went on a date five seconds after waking up next to me. If you wanna see what mad is, come home.

I didn’t put down my phone, ’cause I could see she was typing.

It wasn’t a damn date! What are you talking about? Don’t be an asshole. I told you I was gonna tell him that I didn’t want to see him anymore. God, you’re so fucking frustrating! You don’t have to push me away. You’re not the relationship type of guy. I get it. I was prepared for this.

That text was the biggest gut punch today. What did she mean by that? Not a relationship type of guy—she couldn’t possibly place herself in the category of chicks I’d stopped seeing because of her. Even when she was dating others, I could never keep up the charade for long.

Tags: Cara Dee Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net