Until You (The Redemption, #1)(12)

Her smile lights up, but before she can answer, Paige clears her throat from the doorway. “Dinner is ready,” she says.

“Last chance to bail,” I joke.

Tenny doesn’t leave. In fact, she’s a great sport as the girls show us to our seats at the dinner table—across from each other. It’s not lost on me that there is a lone candle burning behind us on the kitchen counter that wasn’t there moments before. Silverware is set on folded napkins and squares of lasagna have been cut, plated, and sprinkled with parmesan cheese.

“Wow, ladies. You rescue cats, you’re up-and-coming influencers, and you’re chefs,” Tenny says. “I’m more than impressed.”

“It’s frozen lasagna. You can’t exactly mess that up,” Addy says but the blush on their cheeks from the praise is cute.

“I’m the queen of messing up simple dinners,” Tenny says and laughs as Paige takes the first bite.

“Oh my God,” Paige groans around a mouthful of food, her face squishing up. “What is in this?” She looks from Tenny to me, her eyes wide before she brings a napkin to her mouth and spits her half-chewed food into it.

“Gross,” Addy says.

I cringe. “Clearly our table manners need help.”

Tenny laughs politely as we both take a bite of the meal. It tastes like noodles, ricotta, sauce and . . . then I chew something that has me pausing at the same time Addy says, “Disgusting,” before running to the kitchen trash can and crassly spitting her mouthful into it.

I want to die.

A pretty woman. A decent evening. And . . . are those peas I’m tasting? No. It can’t be.

Paige runs to the counter and picks up the box the lasagna came in. “Vegetarian?” she screeches. “You bought vegetarian lasagna? Who puts carrots and broccoli and peas in pasta?”

“Apparently a vegetarian,” Addy says then rinses her mouth out with water and spits it into the sink.

I try to save face. To make it seem like one of us Maddens is capable of eating dinner without spitting their food out. “I think it’s good.” I force down the first swallow of it, darting a quick glance in Tenny’s direction to catch a stoic expression. “Nothing is wrong with vegetables.” I take another bite to try and prove a point, only to struggle when my teeth bite into a big spear of broccoli.

I catch myself from gagging, and this time when I look back to Tenny, she meets my eyes as she politely, but clearly struggling, swallows her bite of pasta.

And it’s that look, those brown eyes that say help, that make me lose it.

“Screw it. I can’t do it,” I admit and grab my glass of wine and take a big gulp.

“Thank God,” Tenny says, following suit with her own wine.

We look at each other over the rims of our glasses and then start laughing. It’s the kind of laugh where snorts are involved and then the sound of the snorts sends you into another fit of laughter.

The tears in Tenny’s eyes make me laugh even harder, my breath short, my cheeks hurting from smiling so hard.

The girls stare at us with dumbfounded looks on their faces.

“I tried,” Tenny says when she can finally manage to talk through her laughter. “I really did. But radishes?”

“And peas?” I add as she wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. “I guess this is one way to guarantee you won’t be coming back for dinner.”

She holds a hand up as she tries to not start the giggles again. “I’ve had veggie lasagna before. Eggplant. Squash. It was good. But this? This was . . .”

“It was so good you don’t even have words for it.” Her smile softens, and she meets my eyes. “It’s okay to say it was terrible. I won’t get my feelings hurt.”

“Let’s just say, I won’t be running out to buy that from the store anytime soon.”

“Thank God,” the twins say, and for the first time, I notice them standing there, hips against the counter, smug smiles on their lips, as they take us in.

They think their little plan worked.

I shoot a visual warning at them that has them scurrying toward us. “We’ll do the dishes,” Paige says.

“Of the dinner we didn’t eat,” I say and look around the kitchen to try and salvage whatever is left of this moment because God, did it feel good to laugh like that again.

I think maybe until now, I’d forgotten how.





CHAPTER FIVE


Tennyson




“Cheers,” Crew says, tapping his Oreo against mine. “Thank you for being such a good sport about it. About this.” He motions to the open package of cookies sitting between our glasses of wine. “I’m sure this was the last way you thought you’d be spending your evening.”

“Oreos and wine? You’re a man after my own heart. I mean, who’d complain about this?” My smile comes easy as I lean my head back against the chair.

We’re sitting on the verandah, enjoying the warm night air. The sound of crickets singing is accompanied by the muted laughter coming out of the open windows, where the girls are inside cleaning the kitchen from our non-dinner.

And yes, they are taking their sweet ol’ time doing so.

Na?ve me, didn’t see the setup happening when they invited me for dinner. The shocked expression on Crew’s face when I thanked him for inviting me to dinner did, though.