Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
It wasn’t a lie when I said I would rather be alone than lonely. But maybe it’s because I have always been lonely and am used to it now.
Chapter 6
Bridgett
Drinks
Standing in my kitchen, I look down at the cookies I just pulled out of the oven. I don’t know where I went wrong, but it’s obvious I made a mistake somewhere because my cookies do not look anything like they’re supposed to. In fact, they look more like overcooked pancakes with chocolate chips than anything else.
Ken, who was my family’s chef growing up and still cooks for my parents, would be highly disappointed if he saw this disaster. When I was little, I would sneak into the kitchen to hang with him whenever I knew my mom wouldn’t be around. Because Lord knows she would have lost her mind if I told her I wanted to learn to cook and actually enjoyed it. But Ken let me help him anytime I asked and showed me all his tips and tricks for making everything from breakfast to fancy desserts. Obviously, I’ve lost my touch over the last few years.
I shake my head with a groan. Maybe trying to bake Noah cookies was a stupid idea. I don’t even know if he eats sweets. With a body like his, I doubt he does. Using the spatula, I scrape one of the cookies off the tray and take a bite, shrugging at my discovery. They might look like garbage, but they actually taste delicious.
I hear a knock on the door and frown. Heading out of the kitchen toward it, I check the peephole to see who it is—all while praying it’s not my mother. After the confrontation we had earlier today, I’d be happy not seeing her for a very, very long time. But with plans to visit my dad tomorrow after work, I doubt I’ll be that lucky. Because even if my father asked her for a divorce, I’m sure she will still be at the house, making her presence known.
A smile curves my lips, and I swing open the door when I see my brother’s girlfriend, May, on the porch.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask as she steps inside to greet me with a tight hug. The first time she ever hugged me, it completely caught me off guard, and I honestly didn’t know what to do. My family did not hug growing up, and no one else I know is big on hugs either. But…it’s nice.
“I was driving by and thought I’d stop in to see if you’d be interested in going out with me for a drink.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.” She laughs. “I know you’ve been working a lot lately, and we haven’t had a chance to catch up.”
“I’d love to go.” I watch her smile before she looks around with her nose in the air.
“What smells so good?”
“I was making cookies for Noah and—”
“You’re making cookies for Noah?” she cuts me off, her eyes wide.
“Yeah.” I head back to the kitchen. “The day after my car was totaled, he stopped by to bring me my purse and saw that I was looking for a new vehicle.” I lift one shoulder. “He took pity on me and drove me to the dealership, so I wanted to thank him. And since I don’t have a lot of money, making something homemade seemed like the best idea.”
“I didn’t know your car was totaled.” She rests the palm of her hand against her chest. “Aiden didn’t tell me that.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Really, I’m not surprised my brother didn’t tell her. I know he wants to protect her, and that includes safeguarding her from me. I grab one of the fast-food containers I washed and saved to use as Tupperware later and start loading the cookie dough into it.
“It is a big deal. He should have told me.” She shakes her head and lets out a breath.
“Don’t be mad at him. I’m sure he just didn’t think about it. And it’s okay. Noah helped, which was really kind.”
“And now you’re making him cookies.”
“I was, but this batch was no good. I’ll have to redo them,” I say. She picks one up off the pan and takes a bite.
“They’re delicious. What recipe did you use?”
“I didn’t use a recipe.”
“You didn’t?” Her brows dart together.
“No, I have it memorized since it’s one Ken and I used to make all the time when I was little.”
“Ken. Your parents’ chef, Ken?” she asks, and I know Aiden must have mentioned him to her at some point.
“Yep.”
“You used to bake with him?” she asks, sounding surprised.
“Yeah, I was always in the kitchen annoying him when I was little. Really, I bothered him even when I was in high school.”
“Did your brother ever hang with him?”
“No, he was always gone with Noah and wasn’t really around very much,” I say. She looks thoughtful as she studies me closely. Needing to get out from under her scrutiny, I take the dough to the fridge and set it inside, asking, “Do you think I need to change?” I glance down at the jeans and sweater I put on when I got home from work this evening.