I wanted to know him.
He stepped away to pour a glass of wine for me. “It’s impressive though,” he chuckled. “I’ve never seen so many things go wrong at once.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I was born this way. It’s all natural talent.” I took a sip of my wine and then another sip. I tried to talk myself out of gulping the entire glass, but it was too good to stop.
Half his mouth lifted in that crooked smile that made my belly quiver. “How about we clean this up and I cook us something instead.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can,” he argued. “I promise not to burn the bread.” He looked at the salad again like it was the most offensive thing of all. “Or turn the lettuce into soup.”
I snorted on a surprised laugh. “I meant, you literally can’t make us dinner. I have nothing but cereal and yogurt and maybe some cheese.”
“That can’t be true.” He turned around and walked straight to my refrigerator. Yanking open the door, he leaned inside and moved the milk around. “What is the opposite of lactose intolerant?”
“Lactose tolerant?”
He shot me a look over his shoulder. “What I’m saying is, I’ve never seen so much dairy in one refrigerator. You literally only have dairy.”
“I also have oranges,” I told him. “And I think some grapes.”
Ezra stood up and opened my freezer. He pulled out the Mint Chocolate Chip I’d been saving for a rainy day. “Oh, look. More dairy.”
“Hey! That’s a different variation at least. I should get credit for that.”
He moved over to my pantry, rummaging around until he came out empty handed. “You weren’t kidding. I can’t even make eggs.”
“Sorry, I don’t do the whole big shopping thing. I prefer to make several intrusive, bothersome trips a week. This time, I only got enough ingredients to ruin them all.”
“How do you survive like this, Molly?” He looked genuinely concerned, but I didn’t know what to tell him. I had a system that worked for me.
Sure, it would have been beneficial to introduce more vegetables to my diet and maybe some fiber, but let’s review what happened with the spaghetti. It was safer for everybody if I just stuck to microwaveable meals.
And the dairy of course.
“I’m really good at ordering Chinese,” I told him.
His eyebrows furrowed. “How about this. I’ll start on the dishes and you order the Chinese.”
My chest warmed, my heart expanding to accommodate a flurry of new emotions. “What do you want?”
“You pick,” he ordered. “Show me just how good you really are.”
I shook my head at him, but did as he asked. When I came back to the kitchen he had already thrown away all of the food and started on the dishes. I stepped up next to him and reached for the noodle pot to dry.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told him.
He stared intently at the salad bowl he was scrubbing. “I know.”
“But you’re going to do it anyway?”
“We all have our domestic talents, Molly. Washing dishes is mine.”
I laughed, thinking he was joking. “Why don’t I believe you?”
He turned his head, giving me the full force of all his broody intensity. “It’s true,” he insisted. “Killian always had to be the one to help make dinner. That left me on cleanup duty.”
The heaviness in his statement surprised me. “I forget that you guys grew up together.”
He turned back to the bowl. “Yep.”
I hadn’t meant to kill the conversation, but I was also curious to know more about his childhood. I knew he came from foster care. I knew his mom had died. I knew his dad had died later. But those were random facts anyone could Google. I wanted to know the details, the specifics. I wanted to know so much more than the highlights.
But I didn’t know how to ask those questions, so instead, I said, “It’s cool you guys are still friends. Vera and I grew up together too. I can’t even imagine what my life would look like without her.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure I feel the same way about Killian.”
I laughed because I hoped he was making a joke. He didn’t. We fell silent again. Realizing he wasn’t going to offer any information about his childhood, I decided to pry. “So what was it like growing up with Killian? Was he as scary back then as he is now?”
“Worse,” Ezra grunted. “He’s always been a cocky bastard, but back then he was always picking fights and causing trouble. He hated everything and everyone. Even me. Maybe especially me.”
“Why you?”
He shut off the water and dried his hands on my kitchen towel. Settling back against the counter after he set the towel down, he crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his voice reverently. “Because I had known my mom. He hated that I’d gotten to live so much of my life with a parent. But he had no idea. I still think he’s clueless. He lost his parents, but he didn’t lose them, you know? Not like I did.”
“What do you mean?”
My chest pinched at the desolate look in his expression. I immediately wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him it was going to be okay.
“My mom and I were close,” Ezra explained. “Losing her… losing her was like losing everything.” His gaze met mine. He tapped his chest with a flattened palm. “It still hurts. After all these years, I still feel it here as sharply as I did the day it happened.”
I licked dry lips and tried to swallow past the lump in my chest. “How did she die?”
“Breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m so sorry.”
He reached out and linked our hands. I hadn’t been expecting him to need comfort, but I wished I’d given it to him before he asked. His grief was so palpable, so real and heavy that I had been momentarily paralyzed by it, lost in the swirling emotions he didn’t try to hide.
I squeezed his hands. “What was she like?”
“Kind,” he answered with a tender smile. “She was kind and thoughtful. We were very poor and when she got sick, things only got worse. But she always managed to take care of the people in our life that had less than we did. She always remembered birthdays and holidays, and she reached out when people had a need. She had this beauty that everyone was attracted to. Not just outwardly, but her soul drew people in. And funny. She had the best sense of humor. Even at the end.”
“Your dad wasn’t around at all?”
Something harsh and unforgiving flashed in his expression, making me regret the question. “No, my dad didn’t show up until years later. Which I will always be grateful for.” There was a weighted pause and then he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him, “He didn’t deserve her.” He blinked, breaking out of a memory. “What about you? What are your parents like?”
It was all I could do not to pull my hands from his and curl into myself. There were only a few topics I liked less than my parents. But he had been so open and honest with me, it was only fair to return the favor. “They’re… difficult,” I admitted. “And really different.”