“Oh,I’m sure,” I replied sarcastically.
“Anyway,”Sebastian continued, eating more of the asparagus, “Dad’s tending to thepiglets. So, he won’t be by tomorrow. He’s—”
“Well,maybe we could go over there on Sunday,” I suggested, offering a surprise of myown.
BothSebastian and Greyson turned to me, startled.
“Seriously?”Sebastian asked, thrusting a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think you’dwant—”
“Ithink it’d be fun to check out a farm,” I offered, when really, I was justcurious about the people who had raised him.
Lettingit settle in, Sebastian nodded. “Well, we can definitely do that, if Greyson’scool with it. I’m sure my sisters would be there too, and their husbands andkids.”
Proppingmy chin into the palm of my hand, I asked, “How many kids do they have?”
“I’man uncle times nine.” He puffed with a noticeable amount of pride beforesipping at his beer.
“Ithought you didn’t have much experience with kids,” I reminded, eyeing him withskepticism.
“Yeah,I don’t, really. I don’t see my sisters all that often these days. They’re sobusy with their own lives, and I’m so busy with mine …” A rueful look cloudedhis eyes as he shrugged, and I wondered how someone like him could be solonely.
***
Greysonturned down Sebastian’s offer to jam in his drum studio, and instead, immediatelyheaded downstairs after dinner. He was playingStreet Fighter 5, he said,and wanted to get back to it. The moment he closed the basement door behindhim, I was so aware of how alone Sebastian and I were, as we cleared the dinnerdishes.
“So,”he began, closing the dishwasher, “it’s just us. What the hell should we do?”
“Um,well, I should probably prepare for my meeting with Roman tomorrow,” I informedhim, wiping my hands on a dish towel.
“Doyou do anything but work?”
Theaccusation pricked at my nerves. “Of course I do.”
“Really?Because I’ve known you for several days now and I’m not sure you pay attentionto anything that isn’t work.”
Angerflared in my gut. “I care about other things. I care about Greyson, and—”
“Ididn’t mean that you don’t care about Greyson, or anything else,” Sebastian defendedhimself, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the refrigerator.“Of course you do. But when was the last time you did anythingwithhim?”
“Um… we had dinner last—”
“No,that doesn’t count,” Sebastian interrupted, shaking his head. “Tabby, I don’t knowmuch about kids, but one thing Idoknow is that they’re not going torespond to you if you don’t make them feel important. That’s just basic humanshit.”
Thenerve of this man. I gawked and sputtered before spitting out, “I do make himfeel important! Are you kidding me? I didn’t have to take him in. I didn’t haveto ruin everything for—” My voice stopped abruptly as I realized what I wasgoing to admit. What nobody else knew.
Sebastianshook his head, smirking with intrigue. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said,reaching out and gripping my shoulders, before steering me into the livingroom. “You don’t start saying some shit like that and not get to finish.”
Handsstill on my shoulders, he pressed until I sat on the couch. From a mini bar, hegrabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, and I shook my head adamantly.
“Noway,” I told him as he began to pour. “I don’t drink whiskey.”
“Youdo tonight,” he smirked.
“No,I really … I can’t handle whiskey. It gets me really drunk, and it gets medrunk really fast.”
“Youever think that you could benefit from getting really drunk, really fast?” Hehanded me one of the glasses and when I refused to take it, his gaze softened.“One drink, Tabby. Just one.”
Sighing,I relaxed and took the glass from him, tipping it to my lips. The whiskey wassmooth, warm, and tasted like sin.
