“I guess the better question is—Did Andy have the ingredients to make crepes?”
“It’s not that hard. All you need are flour, eggs, milk, butter, salt, and water,” he says.
“Oh,” I say, as he expertly flips it in the pan. “Most single guys wouldn’t keep flour around.”
I know Andy can cook, but he doesn’t bake, or at least he hasn’t in the past.
“I’m sure someone left it over.”
His words sting, but when I glance at him under a curtain of my hair, I don’t see any malice in his expression.
“I guess so,” I mutter.
“No worries, shorty. Drew is all about you. Whoever left it is a nobody.”
He’s trying to smooth things over but I’m getting more uncomfortable thinking about Andy with anyone else.
I go to sit on the couch and flip the TV on. I don’t want Mitch to see me rattled.
“What do you want on your crepe? I found strawberries and whipped cream in the fridge,” he calls out to me.
I have no desire to eat whipped cream. It isn’t like Andy constantly ate the stuff. Did he use that on another woman? I try not to let petty jealousy get the best of me. He has a right to be with anyone—or at least he did. Then I remember the ice cream sundae fixings I left here a few weeks back. That doesn’t explain the strawberries.
The door opens and Andy walks in with a dusting of snowflakes on his coat. It must be really cold for them to not have melted on his way to his apartment.
“You treating my girl good?” Andy asks Mitch.
“Like a princess. I’m making crepes. Bro, you have whipped cream and strawberries in your refrigerator. Dare I ask?”
Andy’s response comes so easy. “I bought ice cream and that stuff for the dessert you interrupted last night.”
Mitch has no shame and only shrugs. “My bad.”
Andy makes his way over to me and kisses me quickly, but not before his nose brushes mine.
“You’re cold,” I squirm.
“I could heat you up.”
“Yeah, don’t mind me. I like to watch,” Mitch calls out.
Andy groans. He straightens and takes his coat off. “They’re plowing the roads. You’ll be able to go home soon,” he calls out over his shoulder to Mitch.
Mitch puts a hand on his heart. “I’m hurt. Here I am slaving over a hot stove for your woman and you’re kicking me out.”
Andy laughs and I find it hard not to. “Have you heard from Dave?”
“No, but that prick’s probably got company of some variety. Has Drew told you about our friend Dave?”
“Not much,” I say.
“Dave is the prettiest of all of us, or so women say. He can have any woman he wants, but he’s not happy just with women. No, he mixes it up with anyone who catches his eye.”
I vaguely recall the guy Mandy called Thor that drunken night and agree that Dave is pretty hot.
“If not for his self-righteous father, I think he might have given up women,” he says absently. “Don’t you think Drew?”
Andy shrugs.
“His Dad doesn’t approve?” I ask.
Mitch laughs. “His Dad is a good ole southern boy and a Senator to boot. Dave’s a chip off the old block. Kind of like me. Follow in the footsteps of our fathers, they say. You’ll be successful one day… they say.” He gives Andy a knowing look.
“You had a choice,” Andy says. “You could have taken that fancy law degree and joined a firm.”
“You’re a lawyer?” I ask. It seems weird someone would go through the trouble of getting a law degree and not use it.
“I’m a Lobbyist at my dad’s firm,” he says with a disgusted curl to his lip.
Oh, I mouth, wanting to know more but thinking it isn’t any of my business.
Now that I know the whipped cream isn’t a product from any of Andy’s former dates, I eat Mitch’s crepe and fuss over it.
“It’s really good.”
“My mother is an excellent cook. She had no choice but to teach me, her baby boy.” He winks. “My two older brothers showed no interest in the culinary arts.”
“You’re going to make some woman very happy,” I declare with my chin resting on my hand as I study the guy who treated me like mortal enemy number one last night.
He shakes his head. “The only woman I’ll ever love is my mother.”
I say nothing because most women don’t want a mama’s boy, even though they say that a man will treat his wife like he treats his mother.
“He’s not telling the truth. The truth is some girl broke his heart and he’s never recovered.”
Mitch jumps in. “She didn’t break my heart,” he denies. “Besides, women don’t want to be treated with respect. They respect you more when you treat them like dirt.” When I gasp, he adds, “Present company excluded.”
“Not all women,” I say feeling the need to stand up for a lot of females.
“Okay, why don’t you two agree to disagree?” Andy says to keep the peace.
Mitch nods and I do too. A silence settles over us. I get up and take the empty dishes.
“You don’t have to clean up after us,” Andy says.