Page 70 of Yours, Unexpectedly

I watch as those words tumble out of her mouth, she registers them, and then she freezes. She looks like a scene in one of those movies where everything stops while the main character has their internal monologue, and I have to try really hard to hold in my laugh. With as skittish as she’s been, it makes me unreasonably happy that she seems to be thinking about a future with me.

Her hand comes up to her mouth and her doe eyes slowly meet mine. “I didn’t say that out loud, did I?” she asks.

“Rebecca Bardot, are you proposing to me?!” I bring my hand up to my chest in mock-shock. “To some it might seem a little soon, but baby, I’m right there with you. Let’s do it.” I keep talking as she narrows her eyes. “I’ve always wanted a winter wedding. Do you feel like we can pull something together by, hmm… let’s say, December?” I fling my arms out wide and raise my voice enough to draw some attention to us. “If so, the answer is yes, yes! A thousand times, yes!”

“Good God, man,” she says, trying to wrap her arms around mine and cover my mouth at the same time. “Quit it! People are staring!”

“They’re just jealous of us,” I reply. “I have the hottest fiancée and I don’t care who knows it.”

She curls into me. “You are a menace to society.”

“But like, a hot menace, right?”

“Whatever you say, killer.”

I should probably break up with Jack.

Until recently, I didn’t even know Margarita Monday was a thing, and now I’m on my way to my second one in as many months. I know Anders said Gabe wasn’t fazed about our recent relationship status change, but I have yet to talk to him myself so I am very curious to see how this plays out.

I’m already in a weird mood because I don’t like the fact that Anders isn’t teaching my Intro to Acting class anymore. It felt wrong to be in that theater without him, even knowing that is how it has to be now that we are officially dating. I definitely was not expecting my coffee to be waiting by my chair, per usual, and it made me fall a little harder for Anders. Which is probably why that insane comment about Gabe and Anders being brothers one day popped out. Thankfully, Anders didn’t go running in the other direction after that, but I do need to watch my mouth—words tend to tumble out without permission.

I walk into the apartment without knocking first and I’m welcomed by the sight of two grown men wearing frilly aprons and arguing over how much cream to add to the saucepan they are hovering over.

“I thought Margarita Monday included margaritas and Chinese takeout?” I ask, interrupting their argument.

Gabe jumps back suddenly, bringing his mixing spoon with him, splattering the white cabinets with vodka sauce. It looks like a murder scene.

“Shit! You two are made for each other. You both always scare the shit out of me.”

“I literally just walked into the apartment!” I reply indignantly.

“Yeah, well, make more noise next time!” He sticks his tongue out at me, like the man-child he is.

Rolling my eyes, I take my coat off and hang it up before heading all the way into the apartment. “Seriously, why are you guys cooking? I was expecting mediocre margaritas and takeout.”

“Mediocre?!” Gabe replies at the same time Anders elbows him and says, “We wanted to do something special for you.”

“Special for me…” I echo.

“Mhmm,” Gabe answers. “Your boyfriend over here came up with the idea.”

“And Gabe is being a great team player and not at all upset about missing one Margarita Monday,” Anders chimes in, words in complete contradiction to the face that Gabe is making.

“As long as it doesn’t become a habit,” Gabe mumbles.

I take a seat at the kitchen island and inhale the magical aroma coming from the stovetop. I think one of my favorite things I’ve learned about Anders is that he enjoys cooking. I am absolutely abysmal in the kitchen so I’m grateful that I have someone to properly feed me now.

“We made homemade pasta with the mixer attachment I bought during the month-long period where I was obsessed with figuring out the best recipe for do-it-yourself pasta,” Anders explains.

“I have noticed that you have had some random hobbies over the years. I remember one time you came to Sunday dinner with a bunch of different seed packs so you could help mom start a vegetable garden. Whatever happened with that?” I ask.

“Oh yeah!” He looks off contemplatively. “I remember that. We got eight green beans in that harvest… I should start gardening again.” He pauses for a beat, lost in thought, before shaking his head. “Wait, no. That’s the ADHD talking—gardening was way too much work.” He smiles that smile that crinkles his eyes in the corner, and my lips immediately tilt up in response.

“I know you’ve mentioned that you were only diagnosed a few years ago. How did that happen? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He stops chopping whatever green leafy thing he’s been focused on and gives me a serious look. “I never mind anything you ask me, Baby Bardot. I want you to know it all, so I’m an open book.”

Gabe interrupts Anders’ sincerity with a gagging noise. “You guys are sickening.”

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