Page 43 of The Incredible Ordinary

“I’m not sure I’m the right person to answer that question. I didn’t actually grow up with them. I only found out Aiden existed when he looked me up when I was already a teenager. He sort of forced us together. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. And believe me, I tried to say no.”

“It’s probably not an easy thing to come to terms with,” I say.

“It’s not. I’m not even sure why. It’s not like my parents had an especially happy marriage.” The waitress drops off our drinks, and Milán takes a long swallow. “You don’t have any siblings?”

“No. Only child. I have my ex’s little brother, though, and he’s about as close to an actual sibling to me as anybody.”

“Wren?” he says, remembering the name.

I nod. “Are you two close? You and Aiden.”

“More or less? We’ve sanded down some of the sharpest corners over the years, so there’s less punching involved in our discussions nowadays.”

The waitress brings our food, and we both dig in. I’m starving after skipping breakfast, so for a while we’re both fully focused on eating.

“This is pretty damn good,” Milán says, pointing at his quiche before he glances at my eggs benedict. “Want to swap? Or is that one of those things that’s not considered socially acceptable?”

“Sure. When Theo was younger I always got to finish off whatever he left on his plate. Now he eats like he’s always one step shy of starvation, so there’s nothing left for me anymore.”

He grins and hands me his plate, and I give him mine. Just like that. It’s all so easy. I honestly don’t remember ever clicking with somebody with so little effort. I’ve seen him a handful of times, but somehow being around him feels as comfortable as it does with people I’ve known my whole life.

“Never figured having a kid was a life hack for extra food in restaurants,” he says.

“I’m afraid that window has already closed when it comes to Rory.”

“Yeah, it did sound too good to be true. Ah, well.”

“You can always date somebody who shares food,” I say.

He makes a face. “Maybe I’ll just order multiple portions.”

I laugh at the put-off expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with dating?” I ask.

He debates the answer for a bit. “It’s uncomfortably personal.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

He shrugs. “Probably. I’ve never been a fan, though.”

I lean back in my chair and tilt my head to the side, studying him. “You don’t date?”

He leans back too. “Haven’t in a while.”

“When was the last time?”

He takes a slow sip of his drink and eyes me thoughtfully. “I had a girlfriend in high school.”

“No one after? Really?”

He snorts. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know. You’re…” I can feel a flush creep up my neck.

“I’m what?” he asks with a shit-eating grin. I’m glad somebody finds this situation I’ve walked myself into amusing.

“Handsome,” I say, because I started this, and I’m an adult. Why would I have a problem with admitting another person is handsome? I don’t. It’s more my lack of practice. Let’s normalize saying nice things to other people.