Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
He sniffed the air. “Did you burn something?”
I grumbled, remembering the empanadas. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You never burn anything.”
“I was distracted.”
Noah frowned and patted me on the shoulder. “By your sadness?”
“What? No. By Yara.”
He raised a curious brow. “Oh, you’ve got a thing for the girl next door, huh? Or, more so across the street. I can’t blame you. She’s beautiful. Nice, too.”
There was that word again—nice. Good ole nice Yara.
Why did that bother me so much? Why did she irritate me to my core? People were my least favorite thing in the world. I’d made it a life mission not to care about them, but Yara kept crossing my mind for some reason. It was almost as if she’d unpacked her bags in my head and pitched a tent to live there.
“I don’t have a thing for that woman,” I grumbled like an old man. “She’s a pain and a stereotypical small-town person with a small-town mind.”
“What’s wrong with that? I like small-town girls. I’m engaged to one, remember?”
“Chicago is not a small town.”
“It is when you compare it to New York City,” he explained. “It’s all about perspective.”
“Can we talk about something else?” I said, wanting to move the conversation from Mandy because it always circled back to Catie, and I was beyond done speaking about her.
The best thing about the past was leaving it there.
“Sure. Maybe we can discuss that the last thing you texted me was that you weren’t attending the funeral this afternoon.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Alex…”
“I’m too busy opening the restaurant. I can’t take time off.”
“Buddy…”
I sighed. “I don’t have time for this, Noah. She died, and it sucked, and I’m dealing with it the best way I can think to, all right?”
“And how exactly are you dealing with it?”
By not dealing with it at all.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It will be a beautiful service. Teresa will like it.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Teresa hated funerals. She thought they were ridiculous. Besides, a few years ago, we’d walked past a church holding a funeral service, and she told me exactly what she thought of them.”
“What did she say?”
I took a deep breath.
I tried not to choke on my next inhale.
“She said, ‘‘Alejandro, cuando muera, no me busque en las iglesias. Encuéntrame entre las ollas y sartenes.’”
“Wow.” He nodded slowly. “Now, in English for your best friend to understand.”
I smirked. “‘Alejandro, When I die, don’t look for me within a church. Find me in the pots and pans.’”
Noah sat back in his chair, shook his head, and snickered lightly. “That sounds like Teresa.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Is that why it’s a mess in there? Were you looking for her?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find her in there?”
“No,” I replied. “I only found burnt empanadas.”
He patted my shoulder. “It’s okay if you found grief, too, Alex.”
“I didn’t. I’m fine.”
“Henry called me this morning. He asked how you were doing.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“To piss off.”
That’s my best friend.
Loyalty was Noah’s middle name.
“Thanks,” I muttered, uncertain what to think about Henry searching for me after Teresa’s passing. Henry was one of the best chefs in the world. It just so happened that with that position, he also managed to be one of the worst humans I knew. I used to look up to him until he stole my restaurant concepts and started sleeping with Catie. Rumor had it that they were living happily ever after together. I always wondered about how cheaters could cheat with one another and then run off into the sunset, leaving others with the trauma of healing from the betrayal. It hurt to be cheated on. It hurt even more to know both parties involved in the scandal.
To say Henry’s and my relationship was broken beyond repair would’ve been an understatement.
“Not a problem,” he said and meant it.
“Can we talk about anything other than this?” I asked.
“Like the beautiful girl across the street?”
I rolled my eyes. Turned out, I didn’t want to talk at all. Not about Catie. Not about Henry.
And most definitely not about Yara Kingsley. Though, realistically, she was better than the first two options.
“Maybe we can sit in silence,” I grumbled.
Noah nodded and clasped his hand around his glass. “I’m fine with that, too.”
Noah helped me clean up the whole kitchen before heading to Chicago later for the service.
After finishing some paperwork, I headed out the front door to lock up shop. After locking the door, I glanced to my left and saw that water bowl.
Son of a…
I snatched the bowl as my chest rose and fell rapidly from annoyance and I darted across the street toward Yara’s shop.
“What’s the matter with you, huh?” I barked at Yara, who was finishing a transaction with a customer. I would’ve felt bad if I wasn’t such a jerk.