I chuckle under my breath.
“Okay, so new toy. You’re really excited to play with it, but you don’t just want one toy. You want every toy, ‘cause you’re a puppy, and the minute another toy is placed in front of you, you’re dropping the first one and lunging for the other. That’s not happening with Mason. You aren’t even looking at other toys.”
I brush my hands off.
A puppy? Give me a break. They pee everywhere.
“Okay.”
I slide the sugar and salt in front of me and palm a measuring spoon. I bite my tongue, keeping any comments that might derail this conversation to myself. I am curious to see where Joey is going with this. Some analogy . . .
Not all that inaccurate though. I do like my toys.
“I just know that sometimes new shit can be scary. You have no idea what’s going on or how to explain it, and that makes some people bolt. Yesterday, when I was getting on you about it . . .” he pauses to straighten up. His hands flatten to the wood. “Look, I just don’t want you to do that. Bolt. I think if you did, it would be a huge mistake. He’s good for you. Great for you, actually, and you know I would say something if I thought you could do better. I don’t think there is better.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I think about all the men I’ve been with, the ones worth remembering anyway. All of them pale in comparison to Mason. I never wanted to have any sort of real conversation with them. I never thought about them in scenarios that didn’t involve sex.
Did I ever even laugh with them? Or stay up late at night talking for hours until one of us passed out on the line?
Would any of them have been able to convince me to go camping?
Fuck no. Only him.
I nod, conveying my agreement with Joey as I measure out some salt and pour it into the bowl. “I’m not bolting.”
“You’re not?” He sounds surprised.
“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong. It is different. Really different for me, which when I think about it, I get a little freaked out, but that’s okay. I’m okay with that.” I look up at him. “I don’t want to bolt. I like Mason. I like what we’re doing. I called him my boyfriend yesterday and he . . .”
“Whoa.” Joey waves his hand. “Wait a hot damn minute. You called him your boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
I make a distasteful sound in the back of my throat, dropping my head and the measuring spoon. I slowly peer up at Joey. “You know the building I delivered to yesterday? Do you remember us going there last year, and the guy who hit on me?” Joey nods. “To him. He tried to get me to sleep with him again while I was there.”
He grimaces. “Go home, Vince.”
I shove at his shoulder. “You remember his name?” I ask, laughing. “I didn’t. I had no idea.”
He shrugs, his mouth twitching with a smile. “I lost my virginity to a Vince. That name is burned in my memory. Plus, I remember you telling me how he was uncircumcised and you thought his foreskin looked strange.”
I scrunch up my face in disgust. “We talk about the weirdest shit.”
“Word.”
“Anyway, I ran into Mason right after that, and I told him what I said, that I called him my boyfriend, and his face, Joey.” I frown, leaning my hip against the wood. My cheeks burn. “He looked so happy to hear me say that. I mean, I was literally freaking out, but he was just so ready, you know? Like yes, say it again. Again, Brooke. Please. I could practically hear his thoughts.”
Joey smiles gently. “I bet. So, are we calling him your boyfriend now? Please say yes.”
I shrug, turning back to the ingredients I laid out. “I’m just going with it. Whatever this is, I like it, so . . . yeah, I guess. I guess he’s my boyfriend. I have a boyfriend.” I let out a nervous giggle. My eyes widen. Joey regards me with barely contained jubilance. “Um, yeah I just had a tickle.” I touch my throat, swallowing thickly. “That was weird.”
Oh, my God. I just turned into a preteen.
“Weird indeed,” Joey remarks, wiggling his brows.
The front door chimes again, followed by the loud tapping of heels striking on tile. Dylan steps into the kitchen with my sister close behind.
Juls used to be a regular in the bakery up until last year when she popped out her second kid. Now she’s a full-time mommy, part-time wedding planner, and hardly has a minute to spare for visits that aren’t work related.
“Good morning, everyone,” she sings, circling the worktop and wrapping her arms around Joey. “Mm. You smell nice. Is that new cologne?”
“It’s Billy’s. I ran out.” Joey leans back, releasing her from the hug. “Do you like it better than mine?”
Dylan chuckles from her stool. “Oh, Jesus. Here we go.”