Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Drake climbs in beside me, and we get buckled in. I take a moment to survey the interior. The floorboards are spotless. You can see out of every window without nary a streak. There are no straw wrappers or errant french fries like there are in my car, and the air is lightly fragranced with a scent reminiscent of his cologne.
It’s like being wrapped up in one of his jackets. Or his arms. Or his sheets.
“So where are we going?” I ask as he pulls away from the curb.
“I thought we’d grab a bite to eat tonight. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
“No. But even if I had, I’ll always eat again.”
He cracks a smile. “My kind of girl. We’re going to a little place not far from here. A friend of mine and his wife opened it last summer, and it’s been doing very well. It was just named one of Nashville’s best new restaurants, which I find very cool.”
“That’s exciting. Are they chefs or businesspeople who like food?”
“She is a chef. Her name is Melissa. I believe she went to culinary school in Europe, then worked in a ton of kitchens around the world. My friend met her while eating street food in Singapore. Their story is pretty wild.”
“Oh, I love that. How did they get here?”
Drake looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Nox, my buddy, is from Nashville. Melissa fell in love with Tennessee, and they moved here about ten years ago. He quit his job last year to help her open this restaurant.”
“A man supporting his woman. How groundbreaking.”
He laughs. “Right? We live in this world now where we’ve taken the hustle culture of business and applied it to our personal lives. We’ve lost the idea of working together and supporting one another.”
I sit back in my seat and absorb that. It wasn’t what I expected to hear.
He’s not wrong. I know that because I’ve seen it with my own eyes. With my own parents. They couldn’t set aside their individual goals and power trips to create a safe, warm space for Lucia and me—or themselves.
“Have you been married?” I ask, the thought suddenly occurring to me. I don’t know a lot about Drake, really, and maybe his insight comes from experience.
“Uh, no. Why?”
“I don’t know anything about your love life post Jessica. Maybe there’s an ex-wife that I need to be aware of.”
He grins at me. “No ex-wives. You’re in the clear.”
“So have you had a lot of relationships? Where does this foundation you’re spouting come from?”
“I’ve had a few relationships, but nothing close to marriage.” He flips on the turn signal and makes a left at the light. “I guess my foundation, as you call it, comes from watching my parents. They’ve been married for almost forty years.”
“Whoa. That’s a long damn time.”
He chuckles. “It really is. They dated in high school and got married as soon as Mom found out she was pregnant with my sister Elodie. Mom likes to say that no one thought they’d make it and that sometimes her desire to spite them outweighed her desire to choke Dad.”
“She sounds funny,” I say, smiling.
“She’s pretty great.” He regrips the steering wheel. “What about your parents? What are they like? They must’ve been pretty exceptional to have you as a daughter.”
I half laugh at his words—appreciative of the compliment—but also aware of the irony.
I turn my attention to the scenery out the window. Not looking at Drake gives me a moment to gather my thoughts and figure out what to say about my mom and dad. I don’t want to paint them unfairly, but I want to be honest, too. How do I be respectful but accurate—and fair all the same?
It’s a fine line.
“They were good people,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Dad worked for the government, and Mom was a college professor. They were very successful, very busy, and so damn smart. In retrospect, I think that’s why they fought all the time and demanded perfection of me and my sister, Lucia. It was exactly as you said—a dog-eat-dog household.”
He frowns, reaching across the console and giving my hand a gentle squeeze before pulling it back to the steering wheel. No words were exchanged, no sentiments shared. But that little touch, a quiet acknowledgment of my truth, makes my breath halt in my throat.
“Here we are,” he says, pulling slowly into a parking spot at an adorable tapas place. The parking lot is busy. The group currently exiting the building is laughing and smiling. All good signs. “They have so many options on the menu that I’m fairly certain they’ll have something you like. If not, I have a backup plan.”
“Which is …”
He kills the ignition. “Cook you something myself.”
“At your place?”
Our eyes meet, and the heat that passes between them could burn down the entire city. The air is charged, so thick with energy that it’s nearly alive. Drake’s gaze drops to my mouth, to the exact spot I highlighted with gloss, and then he licks his lips painfully slow.