Page 113 of The Other Guy

“I saw we’re supposed to get a warm up this week.”

“Really?” I ask, standing in his kitchen, pouring myself a cup of coffee wearing only his t-shirt.

“Yeah. It’ll be a huge mess for a few weeks with all the snow that dumped on us lately, but it sounds like the weather is finally turning.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s awesome. I love the change of the seasons and even getting snow, but I’m so ready for warmth and green grass.”

He nods. “Yeah, me, too. Want some French toast?”

“Absolutely.”

We work together and whisk the eggs, adding in milk and cinnamon then melt some butter in a skillet. After dipping the bread in the eggs, Jack gets to work making the toast while I fry up some sausage links.

“I got a text from Kyle this morning. He said everything was good with Toby. He’s going to church then lunch with Rebecca if we want to join them.”

“Rebecca?”

“Oh, yeah, I haven’t really told you yet!” I go on to explain his relationship with Rebecca and the entire time he’s listening, he’s smiling.

“Kyle, the old dog,” he teases.

“I know. I love it for him, though. He deserves to be happy.”

“He does. I agree. Hand me that plate, will you? I’ll put these on and work on the others.”

I hand him the plate then get another for me to put the sausage on, line it with a paper towel and set it aside so it’s ready when I’ll need it.

“I also didn’t tell you something else.”

He flips a piece of toast and turns his head in my direction. “What’s that?”

“The day that I was at Balance? I was running errands with Uncle Kyle.”

He grins. “Your favorite thing.”

“Right. Anyway, he needed me to sign some papers. When I was born he started a savings account in my name and he wanted to transfer the money to me. Well, actually, he wanted to tell me about the account first.”

“He hadn’t told you yet?” he asks, removing the last of the toast from the skillet and placing it on the plate with the rest. I finish up the sausage and put it on the plate also and he brings both to the table.

I follow behind with our coffee cups and settle in at the table we’d already set with our plates and forks.

“No. He hadn’t. And it’s… well, it’s substantial.”

“Wow! That’s awesome.” He places two pieces of toast on my plate and passes me the syrup before reaching over for the sausage.

“Yeah.”

We eat and compliment each other on how great the food tastes but I can’t help but think about why he’s not asking more about the account. Maybe I’m too nosy of a person, but I’d think he’d be a little more curious than he appears to be.

“Don’t you want to know more?”

“About what?” He wipes some syrup from the corner of his mouth and takes a drink of his coffee, draining the last of it. He points to my cup as he stands. “Want more?”

I nod and scrunch my eyebrows, turning in my chair to watch him as he gets us more coffee.

“About the account.”

“What do you mean?”

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