A chorus of “Sorry, Moms” circled the table.
“Freezing rain.” Mr. Decker came back in, one last foil packet in his hands. “The grill already had a good crust of ice on it before I got it under the canopy.”
“Freezing rain? It’s almost April, for Christ’s sake.” Ben groaned, checking the weather app on his phone. “This is supposed to keep up through the night. Great. I’ve got an early morning meeting in the city.”
“It’s supposed to warm up through the night. You’ll be able to make it back in the morning, but tonight—” Mr. Decker peeked out the kitchen window after setting the foil packet on the empty platter on the table. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s going anywhere unless you’ve got ice skates.”
I twisted in my seat to look at the same window. “I’ve got a morning meeting too.” It was with one of the campaign managers for the new client I’d booked. I did not want to show up late or not at all to my first meeting with them.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you back in time.” Soren’s hand tightened around mine.
“Why don’t we all eat, and then figure out what to do about this fine, April weather?” Mrs. Decker suggested, opening the other foil packet. It had a heap of marinated red potatoes inside.
My eyebrows pulled together as I stared at the meal on the table. Soren must have noticed.
“Mom asked if there was something special you might like for dinner,” he whispered. “I remembered you saying your mom used to make this for your birthday every year—how much you liked it.”
My eyes burned. “You remembered barbecued chicken, corn on the cob, and roasted red potatoes?” I’d probably mentioned that random fact to him weeks ago, not thinking he’d recall any of it, let alone all of it.
“And biscuits. Homemade biscuits.” Soren held out a basket, opening a checked cloth to reveal a pile of biscuits.
That homesick pang I could never quite seem to shake dispersed. At least for a while. It was such a simple meal, but it had felt like such a big deal every year when Mom made it for me. Meat, even the cheap cuts, was expensive for our budget back then. Casseroles, soups, noodles, that had been our standard fare, so dining on food like this made us all feel like we were royalty or something.
Here I was, in one of the biggest cities in the world, having just signed a modeling contract that would keep me comfortable for years to come, and there wasn’t any other meal I’d rather have.
“If it’s any consolation, Hayden”—Ben settled the beers in front of his seat, Tobin’s, and Michael’s. He mouthed underage at Soren—“we’re only giving you two such a hard time because we’re a bunch of jealous pricks who wished we were the ones bringing home a girl like you.”
Mrs. Decker let out another sigh as she dished some chicken onto my plate.
“Thanks?” I replied.
Michael nodded like we were square as he lifted his beer. “To baby brother. The first of us sorry suckers to get himself good and pussy-whipped.”
Four sighs circled the table as two more beers stabbed into the air. “To baby brother.”
“Are you sure you don’t want the guest bedroom? I can kick Michael out of there. We’ve got plenty of couches,” Mrs. Decker asked as she turned down the blankets in Soren’s bedroom.
The freezing rain had only gotten worse over the course of dinner and the couple hours that followed. Cabs weren’t operating, and the subway station was too far away to make it on foot with the ice skating rink that had developed outside. Especially with Soren’s ankle. Mrs. Decker had insisted all of us spend the night, and we could head out early in the morning when the temperatures were supposed to warm up dramatically.
“No, I’m fine. I wouldn’t know what to do if I slept in anything bigger than a twin-sized bed.” After sliding out of my sweater, I helped her fold the sheet down. Since I hadn’t planned on spending the night, I didn’t have any pajamas. At least the dress I had on was comfortable.
“I bet when you agreed to come to dinner, you didn’t think you’d be spending the night.” She smiled at me as she fluffed the pillows.
“It’s nice of you to let me stay.” Sitting on the bed, I took off my ballet flats, my teeth sinking into my lip.
Because that was when someone else lumbered into the room, carrying a big red sleeping bag and a pillow. The way he appraised me when he saw me on his bed made my stomach drop and my legs squeeze together. Not okay, Hayden. I should not be having those kind of thoughts about the woman’s son when she was five feet away, still fussing over the bed I was about to spend the night in.
I wouldn’t be alone.
Not that the sleeping bag being rolled out onto the floor suggested that.
“Are you sure about this, Hayden? I know you’re both adults and everything, but Soren can take the floor downstairs.” The way she looked between us, it was almost like she knew we’d crossed that line of roommates who were just friends. Moms always had good intuition.
“No, it’s okay. I’m used to Soren sleeping ten feet away.” I glanced at him where he was kneeling above his sleeping bag, adjusting his pillow. When he caught me looking, he tugged his T-shirt over his head.
He wasn’t going out of his way to make this any easier.
“I suppose you are.” She came around the bed and wound her arms around me. I rose so I could hug her back. “Okay then, sweet dreams.”
My mind wasn’t thinking sweet things—it was veering in the opposite direction.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” she said as she moved on to Soren, kissing his forehead after letting him go.
“Night, Mom. Thanks for everything,” he replied before sliding into the sleeping bag, but not before giving me one more look that had my insides jellifying.
“Lights out?” She paused in the doorway, her finger on the light switch.
I scooted onto the bed, tucking my legs under the covers.
“Lights out,” Soren answered for us.
The room went black, the door sealing closed a moment after. Some light came in through the windows from the streetlights outside, but it took my eyes a while to adjust before I could really see anything.
It was almost eleven, but I hadn’t been tired when we’d all finally decided to crawl into our assigned beds for the night. The instant the lights went out, I became even less tired.
The air had the feel of an electric storm coming, making the hair on my arms rise. All of my senses became sharper too. I could hear his even breath, slightly faster than I was used to hearing it at night in the apartment. I could almost make out his heartbeat, pumping only a beat or two slower than mine.
When the sleeping bag rustled as he shifted, I practically jolted in bed.
As my eyes adjusted, I was able to make him out stretched across the middle of the bedroom floor. His arms were crossed behind his head, his bare upper half sticking out of the bag, his eyes wide open, aimed at the ceiling.
It didn’t look like he had sleep on his mind either.