The Difference Between Us Page 16

  Smiling at his profile, I wondered what he thought of me and my broken filter. “Is it really asking so much?”

  He tapped the steering wheel while his car vroomed through traffic, taking on the road with firm decisiveness and lightning quick speed—the same way I imagined Ezra did everything in life. His shrug was the same way, a simple lift and drop of his broad shoulders.

  The car slowed to a stop at a red light. He turned his head again, the glow of the streetlights casting his face in gold and red, backdropped by the neon lights of buildings and the glitter of the pavement. “I agree with you. Molly the Maverick, you deserve a man.”

  Having expected him to elaborate more on what kind of man I deserved, a surprised laugh escaped me. “Just any old man?”

  He shot me an impatient glare. “A man, Molly. Not a boy. Not a pervert. Not a blind date that doesn’t know the difference between the incredibly smart, uncommonly beautiful woman sitting in front of him and a casual hookup.”

  His words soothed some mysterious ache inside me. They were like balm on a wound I didn’t know I had.

  This was it. The crux of it. What I’d been so worried about. The source of my frustrating jealousy for Vera.

  I wanted a man. Not in like the heterosexual obvious way. But like Ezra had said. I wanted a man. Not a boy pretending to be a man. Not an overly sexualized, horny douchebag that only wanted one-night stands. Not a guy afraid to call me on the phone, or ask for my number, or pick up the dinner tab because it wasn’t PC anymore.

  I wanted a man that still believed in chivalry. I wanted a strong, capable counterpart that would protect me, shelter me, and always, always do what was best for me.

  Maybe that made me old-fashioned or outdated or whatever, but it was the truth. I was tired of playing games that got me nowhere. I was exhausted with dating apps and possibilities that fizzled to nothing. I was worn out with meeting Mr. Wrong, after Mr. Wrong, after Mr. Wrong.

  I saw what Vera had now. I’d witnessed how special it could be. Killian cherished her. He thought about her needs first and bent over backward to make her happy. Of course they still fought and they were learning to live together, which was not an easy transition according to her. But he respected her and loved her and made her feel loved.

  That was what I wanted. It wasn’t that I was jealous that Vera had Killian. I was jealous of what Vera and Killian had because I so badly wanted it for myself.

  Before them, I hadn’t held a whole lot of hope for relationships. My parents hated each other. Vera’s dad had spent his entire life in a kind of grieving misery over his dead wife. I had never had a stellar example of real love until Vera and Killian. Seeing the real deal had awoken some kind of love-hungry beast inside me.

  I could no longer be satisfied with casual dating or meaningless hookups. I could no longer wait out my twenties or my thirties or the rest of my single life because it didn’t matter.

  It did matter.

  I mattered.

  And I deserved a relationship with someone that believed that too.

  But I couldn’t tell Ezra any of that. So I said, “You barely know me.”

  Turning down a quiet, tree-lined street, he pulled into Killian’s driveway and idled for a minute before he said, “Killian’s been my friend since we were kids. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known my sister. Ask him if he’s ever ridden in my car.” He paused and then added, “I might not know you yet, but I want to. I want to know all of you.”

  Then he got out of the car, walked around to my side and opened the door for me.

  Skeptical meet chivalrous.

  There wasn’t a whole lot left for me to do except follow him. And internally analyze what that meant for the rest of my entire life the night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Vera met us at the door, swinging it open before we could knock. “You guys made it! And at the same time. I’m impressed, Molly. You’re on time for once in your life!” She laughed at her own joke. “But where did you park?”

  Ezra squeezed by her and threw out a casual, “We rode together.”

  Vera’s eyes bugged. “You did what?”

  “It’s true,” I told her in a softer voice. “He picked me up so we could work on his website on the way.”

  “Wh-what?”

  I pulled her onto the porch, as far away from Ezra as I could without making a scene. “He wanted to work on stuff tonight at your house, but I told him I wouldn’t do that. So he said he’d pick me up and we could work on the way here.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Is that what you did?”

  My cheeks flamed. “Er, no. We didn’t actually get around to it.”

  “What does that mean?” she whisper-shouted.

  Having no idea what kind of perverted thoughts were running rampant in her head, I quickly assured her. “We just talked. That’s all. It was kind of… nice.”

  “You just talked?” she asked and I nodded. “I would have been less surprised if you told me you gave him a blow job on the way over.”

  I slapped her arm. “Oh my god!”

  She made a “duh” face. “Molly, you rode in a car with Ezra Baptiste and talked to him the entire time! I mean, are you serious?”

  “It’s not that big of a deal. Stop making it weird.”

  “I’m not making it weird. It is weird. It just is. I mean, what did you talk about if you didn’t talk about graphic design stuff? I didn’t even know Ezra was capable of having a conversation that revolved around anything besides work.”

  “Let’s go inside, nosey. I think I smell something burning.”

  Vera perked up, jumping into action. “My Brussels sprouts!”

  I followed her inside and shut the door behind me. Vera raced toward the kitchen while I moved at a much slower pace. Killian had owned the bungalow he shared with Vera before they met, but since she had lived with her dad until recently, it had made sense that she move in with him.

  The house was still mostly all Killian, but Vera was slowly making her mark. Framed pictures of the two of them were scattered on bookcases and end tables. Vera had ordered decorative pillows for Killian’s leather couch and chairs. Wedding odds and ends were strewn about, boxes of invitations that hadn’t been sent out yet and swatches of colors piled sporadically. This wasn’t my first time hanging out here, but every time I came over it felt more and more familiar, more and more like Vera.

  Everybody had gathered in the kitchen. While Killian and Vera moved around, testing sauces and braising things or doing whatever it was that they did, Ezra had joined Vann by a cheese platter. The two men stood with beers in their hand picking at lavosh crackers and salami.

  After Vera verbally assaulted me outside, I felt awkward and out of place. These were my people, well, except for Ezra. I should feel totally at home here. Vann was basically my brother. And over the past few months, I’d gotten to know Killian and fallen in platonic love with him. And of course Vera, who was my soul sister, my kindred spirit, my ride or die best bitch.

  But now the atmosphere was tense, strained with uncertainty. It would be perfectly normal for me to become friends with Ezra. It would be weird if we weren’t friends. But I didn’t know how to do that.

  I want to know all of you.

  Was that what friends said to each other? I shivered. No, no it was not.

  I glanced over at him and found him already looking at me. The corner of his mouth lifted in a secretive smile and my heart jumped into my throat and stayed there. His gaze warmed and softened and did all kinds of magical things that weren’t humanly possible in thirty seconds.

  “So, Molly, what’s the Alfa like?” Killian asked.

  It’s at this point I would like to amend my earlier statement in which I claimed Killian and I had gotten close. Okay, we had in a way. But he was still one of the hottest chefs in the country, and therefore, super intimidating. Not just because of his success, but also because he was scary as shit when he wanted to be.

  “The wha
t?” I asked because I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “The car,” he clarified with a mean look at Ezra. “The one not even his sister is allowed to ride in.”

  “Oh, stop,” Ezra ordered. “It’s not that she’s not allowed to ride in it. It’s just that I don’t trust her not to spill something all over it. She’s messy.”

  Killian tugged on his long beard. “Okay, but I’m not messy.”

  Ezra reached for another cracker. “You also don’t want a ride. You want to drive it. And that’s not happening.”

  Killian snorted. “I’d settle for a ride. You’ve never even offered.”

  I shared a look with Vera and swallowed a laugh. “Killian, are you jealous?”

  He turned and focused his glare at me. “Do you know how much shit I put up with from this guy? I don’t even work for him anymore and I still have to deal with his bullshit. And then he buys a sweet ass car and won’t even let me sit in it. Explain to me how that’s fair, Molly.”

  “It’s not fair, Killian. I definitely think he owes you a test drive.” I plopped my chin in one hand and reached for a grape from the cheeseboard with the other. “At the very least you should be allowed to take it on a road trip. I mean, if it were my car, I would let you.”

  Ezra glared at me. “That’s enough out of you.” I smiled innocently and grabbed another grape.

  “What kind of car is it?” Vann asked, amused with the entire conversation.

  When we all looked at Ezra, his gaze moved to the ceiling before he admitted, “Alfa Romeo. The Coupe.”

  Vann’s eyes widened. “The 4C?”

  “Since when do you know anything about cars?” Vera asked her brother. “I thought they were the arch nemesis of Mother Nature? The slow poison humanity is addicted to?”

  Vann barked out a laugh. “I’ve never said that.”

  “It’s the mantra of your granola loving brethren,” Vera challenged.

  Vann waved her off. “That’s not just any car, Vere. That’s a sweet ass car.”

  I half expected the guys to start high-fiving each other. They didn’t. But you could tell they wanted to.

  “It is pretty cool. The seats are super comfortable.” I confirmed, which only made Killian curse creatively.

  “I’ll give you a ride right now,” Ezra told Killian. “Let’s go.”

  Killian looked around the kitchen, his shoulders sinking with defeat. “But dinner’s ready.”

  “Really?” Ezra sympathized, not sounding disappointed at all. “Oh, well.”

  “Selfish bastard,” Killian grumbled.

  “Whiny baby,” Ezra countered.

  “Okay, everybody, go sit down,” Vera said in an extra chipper voice. “We’ll bring it out to you.”

  “What can I carry?” I asked as I moved to standing again.

  Vera handed me a basket of rolls and an uncorked bottle of wine. “We’re probably going to need more of that.”

  I contemplated drinking straight from it. “Yes, we are.”

  She turned back to the stove and I headed for the dining room. Ezra and Vann had already taken their seats, Vann at the head of the table and Ezra on one side. I took my time setting the rolls in the middle of the table and filling up wine glasses and passing them out.

  It shouldn’t be this troublesome to pick a chair, but I couldn’t decide where to go. Finally, Killian and Vera came in carrying the most amazing smelling dishes with them. I grabbed the other seat at the head of the table. Killian could fight me for it.

  “We’re eating family style tonight,” Killian smiled, steam wafting in front of his face. “This is the best rib roast you will ever eat. You can all thank me later.”

  Vera set her dishes down and added, “To accompany, we have Brussels sprouts braised with bacon and cranberries with some shredded Pecorino to finish. And then we’ve got a lobster mac and cheese that honestly is probably better than Killian’s prime rib. But don’t tell him that. He gets sulky when I outcook him.” She shot him a saucy smile. He just shook his head at her.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Ezra,” Killian warned his friend. “If this pops up on Lilou’s menu next week, I’ll find out.”

  “Oh, you’re one to talk!” Vera laughed.

  “Hey, when I did it, it was flirting,” Killian defended himself.

  Vera turned to me. “I had not realized until just now that he was flirting with me when he stole my recipes and served them at Lilou. This is breaking news.”

  I snorted. “Only to you, my friend. Pretty sure the rest of us knew exactly what was going on.”

  Vann and Ezra agreed with me causing Vera to protest loudly, officially launching us into more comfortable territory. Killian continued to give Ezra a hard time about the car while Vera and I discussed wedding details. Vann jumped back and forth between conversations never really landing, although he didn’t seem to mind.

  By the second glass of wine, I’d started regretting my decision to wear skinny jeans. I should have picked an outfit with more room. Like sweatpants. Or a muumuu.

  “Don’t get too full!” Vera warned. “There’s still dessert.”

  The rest of us groaned. Having dinner at Killian and Vera’s was basically like eating Thanksgiving supper, only the dishes were the kind that shaped modern American cuisine and there was no watery Jell-O salad.

  “Molly, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for the painting,” Killian said, nodding toward a canvas I’d painted at Vera’s request. It was a smaller version of the Foodie logo I’d hand-painted on her Airstream turned food truck. Since Foodie had relaunched her culinary career and led her to Killian, she’d wanted something for their house. I’d painted Foodie the same way I’d done on the side of her truck, but added the top half of a silver Airstream in the right corner and Lilou’s simple silhouette in the top left corner. “It looks awesome. You did a really great job.”

  I pushed a leftover Brussels sprout around my plate. “Oh, thanks. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Vera and I were talking and we’d love for you to create some originals for the restaurant.”

  Vera grinned at me, but all I could do was shake my head at her. She was always pushing me to paint more, make it public, sell pieces. I knew it was hard for her to understand why I didn’t want to. She was all about following your dreams and going hard after the things you loved most in life.

  But that was because she had turned her dream into a career.

  There wasn’t a stable future in painting. Painting was way harder to make lucrative than cooking. Plus, Vera was an exceptional chef. She wasn’t just good at what she did, she was the best. And now with Killian by her side, they were totally unstoppable.

  It wasn’t the same for me. I wasn’t interested in turning the thing I loved most into a job. It was my escape from reality. It was my therapy and sanity and hope all wrapped up in one, selfish activity. I didn’t want to give that away to everyone. I didn’t want to cheapen what I loved so very much by putting a price tag on it.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked Killian just to be polite. I would talk to Vera about her overstepping later. Much later. When we weren’t surrounded by three super successful men that would have no idea how to relate to my non-ambitions.

  “Maybe six originals? Four? You can look at the space and decide for yourself what we need.” Killian suggested. “They can be all different sizes. We’d like a longer one above the bar and a really big one along the back wall.”

  Immediately, ideas started popping into my head. It wasn’t that I had tried to feel inspired or intended to conceptualize a series. It just happened. Creativity was like that. She wasn’t careful or well-timed or convenient. She was a selfish hag that withheld her muse when you had time and made you drunk with inspiration the second you couldn’t do anything about it. “Portraits? Abstracts? Do you have a feeling or color scheme in mind?”

  “Er, abstracts with meaning?” Killian answered. “We don’t want straight portraits, but we also want
something that captures what we’re all about.”

  “You mean food?” I asked with a straight face.

  Killian looked at Vera, reaching over to grab her hand. “And love. And passion for both of those things. We just want like this really cool, urban feel. More gallery than hotel art if you know what I mean.”

  “Killian, she’s not going to paint hotel art,” Vera groaned. “That’s so rude.”

  Killian’s attention snapped back to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to—”

  I waved him off. “You didn’t. I get what you meant.”

  “So, what do you think?” he asked, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

  I glanced at Vera again, hating that she’d put me in this spot and hating even more that Killian had brought it up in front of so many people. Fine, it wasn’t exactly a secret that I liked to paint. But I wasn’t worthy of an offer like this.

  If they wanted original pieces, they should hire a professional. I didn’t have the chops for this kind of job.

  But instead of telling them that, I said, “I’ll think about it.”

  Killian settled back in his chair, more relaxed. “When you decide, we can give you a better idea of what we’re looking for.”

  “What’s the timeline?” I asked, abruptly nervous over paintings that hadn’t even been fully decided on yet.

  “By the wedding this fall,” Vera answered. “We’re going to have it at the restaurant before the grand opening. So we’d like everything setup by then.”

  “I can’t believe you’re considering this,” Vann huffed. “I asked you for two pieces for my shop and you flat-out refused.”

  I shook my head at him, embarrassed that he was bringing that up now. “I haven’t agreed yet. I’m just thinking about it.”

  “We’ll pay you!” Vera added.

  I raised one eyebrow, focusing on Vann just so I wouldn’t break out into a sweat. “Are you going to pay me?”

  “Obviously. At least twenty bucks a pop.”

  Laughing, I shook my head at him. “Wow, Vann, I had no idea I was worth so much.”