I snort. “Auntie, he’s twenty-five. That’s hardly what I’d consider a boy.”
“Xander, you better text him already before I smack you upside your stubborn-ass head with my slipper.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez.” I hold up my hands in mock innocence. “So abusive around here.”
Reaching into the pocket of my sweats, I grab my phone, and pull up the message thread between Cope and I. Heart galloping against my rib cage, I type out a text.
And promptly delete it because it sounds stupid.
Then type it out again, before erasing it all.
Third time’s a charm, as I press send before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: Hey, my aunt is making lasagna for dinner tonight, and wanted me to invite you. I’m sure you’re already busy. It’s late notice, so no worries if you can’t come.
Staring at the message, I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat, to no avail. Why does it feel so weird inviting him to dinner? It’s not like I’m asking him on a date; my aunt will be here. Hell, it was her idea, but it still feels…oddly vulnerable.
It’s probably all in my head.
Stomach grumbling, I get back to the task at hand—making some lunch. I pull out a loaf of bread, some ham, cheese, and the tub of butter. A grilled ham and cheese sandwich sounds good, so I make that, all while trying to keep my mind off the phone on the counter, and whether Cope responded to my invite yet. It takes all my willpower not to look the entire time I’m cooking, and by the time I sit down with my hot sandwich in front of me, my hands practically fumble with the phone, trying to check it.
Heart skipping a beat in my chest, I click on the new message from him.
Cope: I love lasagna. I’ll be there. ;)
Jesus Christ. These flutters in my stomach need to chill out.
After I finish my lunch, I try, but epically fail, to continue with my afternoon without anxiety twisting up inside me. I do more laundry—I doallthe laundry—go for a walk around the property with Aggie, Facetime Travis, and then shower…all while my mind is pinpointed to the fact that Cope will be here, in this house, and I don’t know how to process that.
We’ve hung out so many times now. Why does it feel so different?
Probably because it’s dinner and not chores, and probably because you’restillavoiding telling him you broke up with your boyfriend.
A quick look at my phone shows that I have about an hour before he’s supposed to arrive. This is going to be the longest night of my life if I don’t figure out how to calm the fuck down. After I throw a little bit of gel into my hair, I head out to the porch to smoke a quick J, knowing it’ll ease my nerves some.
There’s a whole boatload of shit on my mind and on my to-do list. In the near future, I need to get all of my stuff from Henry’s place, and I really need to sit down with Bastian, my business partner, and figure out a plan for the dispensary. Henry’s stillone of the investors, and while we both agreed to keep our relationship out of business, I’d still like to buy him out. That’s a goal I’ve been wanting to achieve for a lot longer, though.
For about the last year now, Bastian and I have been toying with the numbers and seeing if it would be possible to buy outallour investors, not just Henry. We want to open other locations, but we don’t want to do that while indebted to people. Maybe this breakup is the push I need to finally make that happen.
A large part of me isn’t ready to go home yet. Yes, my aunt is doing well, but I would hate for me to get home, and she has nobody here if something were to happen. It just doesn’t seem logical for me to leave any time soon. Although, I could fly back home for a few days, get my shit from Henry’s, and sit down with Bastian, before flying back here. That’s always an option, I guess.
I don’t know. Maybe I’ll text Bas tomorrow and see what he wants to do.
Taking a hit off the joint, I watch with a grin as Aggie ambles across the grass toward the porch. I’ve noticed when it’s just my aunt out here, Aggie doesn’t usually come over here unless she’s got treats or something, so I’m not sure why she seems so attached to me. I love it, though.
She comes up on the porch, standing right beside my chair. The way she waits for pets reminds me of a dog or a cat. I never knew cows enjoyed being pet the same way house animals do. Maybe it’s just her, I don’t know. Tootsie doesn’t mind if I give her pets, but she doesn’t go out of her way to ask for them.
“Hey, Aggie girl,” I coo, running my hand up and down the side of her, the thick brown coat brushing through my fingers.
My phone vibrates inside my pocket, and when I pull it out, I see a text from Cope, palms instantly slicking up.
Cope: I’ll be heading over soon. You guys need me to bring anything?
He’s so thoughtful and sweet.
Me: We got everything here, but thank you.
Cope: Alright. See you soon. :)
