Page 21 of You First
“Tomorrow. Goodnight.”
He heard her talking to the dogs, telling them goodbye, and then his front door shut, and the lock slid home.
His house, which was always quiet — just as he liked it — fell silent again, but this time the silence felt huge. Gray waited until he heard the car start in the driveway before he sat up and ventured out of his room.
Vulcan and Juno stood in the kitchen, both staring at him with their tails wagging steadily. Gray imagined that they were saying,“Hey, did you know someone came over, played with us, and fed us before leaving again? You may still play with us and feed us, if you’d like.”
“Keep dreaming,” he told them, taking a bowl down from the cabinet. The mac and cheese steamed as he scooped a heaping serving. The headache that had threatened earlier kept its distance, so his appetite was intact, and the food smelled good. He leaned with his back against his kitchen island and took a bite.
Mmm.
It was pasta out of a box — which he’d always take in a pinch — but Meredith had done something to dress it up. Gray took another bite.
Garlic… and is that… ground mustard?
He devoured the whole bowl and served himself seconds, savoring bite after bite.
Lifting the lid of the pot to scoop out thirds, Gray spotted the plate of cookies in the middle of the island, and he covered the mac and cheese again. Instead, he reached for the plate, peeled back the plastic wrap, and eyed the thick cookies. Chocolate chunks, walnuts, and — as promised — corn flakes filled each cookie. Gray grabbed one and took a tentative bite.
“OhmyGod!”
Decadent. Arresting. Hypnotic.
Cookie crack.
There was no other way to describe the rush of delicious that overtook him. He moved to the fridge to pour himself a mandatory glass of milk so the rest of the cookie could be enjoyed as God intended.
With the glass full, he dunked the cookie perfection for the requisite three seconds and took a greedy bite.
He thought his brain might explode. Gray guessed he wouldn’t even need surgery if he ate enough cookies because the pleasure overload on his neurons was already obliterating all other brain function. The seduction of the chocolate… the give of the walnuts… the crunch of the corn flakes. The potent fusion of flavors and textures ruined him for any other cookie on earth.
Gray took out his phone and typed in a rush.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MEREDITH KNELT ONthe bath mat, trying to keep from getting a soaked shirt. Oscar splashed in the tub and dunked his washcloth under the bubbles. She’d already washed his hair, so his golden curls now hung straight down his chubby neck, touching the top of his back. Jamie always talked about cutting his hair, but Meredith kept refusing. Her baby still looked like a baby, and she wasn’t ready for that to change.
“Rub-a-tub-tub,” Oscar chanted.
Meredith smiled. “Rub-a-dub-dub. Three men in a tub. And who do you think they be? The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker. Throw them out. Knaves, all three.”
Oscar laughed at the rhymes, and Meredith laughed at him.
“I have no idea what that means,” she confessed. “It’s probably something really disturbing.”
“Weally dis-stirrin’,” he echoed, before putting the corner of the washcloth in his mouth and sucking on it.
“Eww, Oscar. Don’t drink the bathwater.”
Her baby shook his head. “Don’t dink.”
“Yeah, don’t drink it,” she said, making a face. “Bath water is dirty. It’s full of all the dirt Oscar got while playing today.”
“Playing wiff Booke.” His rosy mouth curled into a smile. Oscar adored Brooke, but he hadn’t yet managed to find the ‘r’ in her name.
“Brooke might come back tomorrow, and we can go watch the boys.”
“Boys!” As Oscar cheered, Meredith’s phone chimed.
