Sway (Landry Family #1)(74)
Instead, I say, “How can you be friends with someone like that?”
“I’m not anymore,” he insists, placing his glass back on the table. “We grew up together, went to the same schools all our lives. She was someone I could . . .”
I shake my head emphatically. “Nope. I don’t want to hear this.”
He laughs, his eyes shining with a sentiment I could get lost in if I let myself. “She was someone I could . . . forget,” he whispers. “She was someone I couldn’t care less about, someone that wasn’t even a blip on my radar.” He leans against the table, his features striking against the candlelight. “She was never anything to me. You, Alison Baker, are mine.”
I bend forward, our lips finding each other’s over the center of the table. For the first time, I don’t care who is watching, I don’t care who is whispering. I just want to revel in this man, his words, and the fact that I know he means it.
Barrett
“YOU OKAY BACK THERE?” TROY asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
“Yeah,” I say, going back to my phone. “Why?”
“You just seem jittery, I guess. That’s not normal for you. Even when you’re stressed or pissed, you’re always composed.”
I toss my phone into my briefcase and lock it. Resting my head on the back of the Rover seat, I take a deep breath. “Just stressed the fuck out.”
He clicks off the radio and turns down Alison’s street. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how serious are we about this girl?”
“Serious.”
“That’s what I thought,” he says, slowing to a stop along the curb. “For the record, I really like her. She reminds me of Camilla, but without the trust fund.”
“She’s nothing like Swink. She keeps to herself, wants no part of this world. Camilla eats it up.”
“Yeah, but Camilla is the classiest woman I know. And Alison, she has that same vibe.”
I open my door and smile at my friend. “Thanks, man.”
He nods and as soon as I step out, he pulls away as I instructed him to do.
I make my way up the sidewalk to the front door, stepping over a baseball bat. It makes me smile because it’s so normal, such a typical family-in-the-suburbs thing to see.
There’s a chip in the front window of the house and I wonder as I knock if she’d be pissed if I had someone come over and fix it. And if I had them install a security system.
Before I can think too much about it, she pulls the door open. “Hey,” she grins, letting me inside. “Are you hungry? We just ate, but there are leftovers in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, actually. I am.”
I kiss her in a more reserved way than I’d like. I sit my briefcase down by the door and follow her into the back, watching her ass sway in front of me as we go.
Huxley is sitting at the table, working on math problems. He looks up and smiles. “Hey, Barrett.”
“Hi,” I say, sitting across from him. “How’s everything going?”
He shrugs. “Good, I guess. I hate math though. Are you good at it?”
“Nope,” I laugh. “I had my brother Ford do all my math homework when I was a kid. I hated it too.”
“I don’t get it when numbers and letters go together. That’s just . . . confusing.”
“That it is,” I laugh.
Alison puts a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans in front of me. It looks delicious, like something I’d get in a diner, but more wholesome. She watches nervously as I take a bite.
The flavors blindside me, so much more than I expected. “This is great,” I say honestly and take another bite. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until now.
A television plays in the living room and I feel myself relax. This is the atmosphere you see on television, the American life you see on sitcoms. A life I didn’t even know was real until now. A life I didn’t know I needed until recently.
We chitchat about Hux’s school and the paper Alison just finished, but we stay away from the election. I’m grateful for that. Bringing that poison into this room would be wrong. It’s so real and pure in this kitchen that I want to preserve it.
“Time to do dishes,” Hux announces, taking my plate and going to the sink. I watch his little body move around—filling the sink, adding the bubbles, getting his towel laid out to catch the wet dishes.
Alison watches me with as much curiosity as I watch him. She raises her brows and I consider my next move, but know what I want to do.
Standing, I take off my watch and place it on the table. I roll my sleeves back to the elbows while I head towards Hux. He looks at me over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to help me,” he grins. “I do the dishes every night. It’s my job.”
“I’d like to help you, if you don’t mind,” I say, trying to figure out how to join into this perfected assembly he has going on. “I’ve never done this before.”
He nearly drops a plate. “What?”
I shrug. “We had people that did it for us.”
“Can we get people, Mom?”
Alison laughs, tucking her legs beneath her on the chair. “Sorry. No people for us,” she tells him.