Jax said with mock seriousness.
“Oh, shove it, Ellie,” she teased back.
They started throwing out the worst jokes they could think of at each other, back and forth, like the bickering kids they’d morphed into over the year.
Bash chuckled and rolled his eyes before tossing out a few of Jamie’s old jokes, directed at how annoying lead singers could be.
I swear we were adults but reverting into junior high school kids every so often was damn fun.
Chapter 19
EVIE
“Ugh. I’m afraid that if the truth gets out there, it’s going to ruin everything,” Agatha said, grabbing a pillow from the couch she was sitting on.
“Secrets have a way of coming out when you don’t want them to. Being upfront and honest is usually a good idea,” I said.
And I’m a hypocrite.
We were halfway through Agatha’s weekly session and I tried to think about what secret she was referring to. Agatha was young, newly married, and a touch dramatic. We hadn’t done a couple’s session yet, but she’d been coming to me for years before she’d gotten married.
“How do you tell your spouse something you know is going to upset him, when keeping it to yourself isn’t hurting anyone?” she asked.
I hadn’t anticipated our appointment being such a gut check, and I should have been focused on my notes, but I was thinking about Tristan. About James. About when was the right time to do anything.
I shoved my own issues aside and listened to my client. That was my job.
“Is this something we’ve talked about before? Communication is the key to making a relationship work.”
She squeezed the pillow against her chest. “I know. It’s just, I told Wayne that I loved his mom’s cooking, but it’s awful. I think she microwaves the chicken before cooking it. It’s like rubber. He wants to keep going to her house every Sunday night, and sometimes the food isn’t bad, but when it is, I’m afraid I’ll choke on it.”
Was I a bad therapist for finding that trivial?
Probably.
But, while not liking her mother-in-law’s food wasn’t a big issue, I empathized.
“Okay. While telling him outright that you don’t like his mom’s cooking is probably not the way to go, you can offer a compromise instead. Maybe she comes to dinner at your house every other week, and then you’ll only go to hers twice a month.”
She sighed. “I guess I could try that. He really loves her cooking.”
“I’m sure he loves yours as well. I know you like your mother-in-law; you’ve mentioned that before.”
“I do.”
“She probably wants to spend more time with her son now that he’s married. And I’m sure she wants to spend more time with you.”
“Yeah. That makes sense.” She sat up straighter. Agatha was a dweller, and I knew that having a tangible solution to her problem would help her get past this.
We finished up the rest of her session while I tried not to think about my own issues. Everything was going perfectly with Tristan. No one needed to know about Jamie and James. No good would come out of that secret coming to life. Luckily, I trusted the band to not say anything.
An hour after my last client later that afternoon, with James and groceries in tow, I knocked on Tristan’s door. He’d asked us to come over for dinner and had demanded I bring James.
I would fully admit to enjoying having Tristan to myself, but James loved hanging out with Tristan. The feeling was mutual, so as much as I would miss all the making out that our toddler chaperone would deter, I couldn’t help but melt a little at how much Tristan and James loved each other.
It made me fall a little more in love myself.
“We’re here,” James shouted when Tristan opened the door.
Tristan chuckled, and I pushed down the desire ramping up in my body.
Toddler chaperone.
Tristan looked amazing as usual. How that man could send my heart racing with a pair of well-loved jeans and a T-shirt was beyond me. His hair was pulled back in a messy bun that looked better than any I’d ever tried to create with my own hair.
Again. How the hell was that fair?
“Hello there,” Tristan said, pulling James up into his arms and giving him a hug. James pulled back and gave Tristan a big grin.
“Hello. We’re making chicken for dinner.”
“You are? I didn’t know you were the chef tonight,” Tristan said.
“I am. We’re having brownies, too,” James said, reaching forward and tugging on a strand of Tristan’s hair that had slipped free.
“Ouch.