Page 70 of Friends with Benefits

Theo surprises himself with the sound of his own voice, but who the fuck isSilvie?

No one named Silvie has ever wonBake Off.

“My… erm… I started going to a grief group?” Jacob admits. “Silvie leads it.”

Theo’s eyebrows rise. “Oh.”

“It’s helped.”

Theo thought his father’s admission was going to be that he’s dating, that Silvie is his girlfriend. But this? It’s almost worse. It’s a messed-up thing to think… for this to be Theo’s reaction to his father seeking help. But. Why now? Theo tried to nudge his father toward grief counselors, toward therapists. Back when he cared. His therapist told him not to push. Said that Jacob would have to want it for himself. He’s right. Theo knows it’s irrational, childlike even, to want Jacob to do something, to do anything, to try, forhim.

But it still hurts.

He controls his emotions, then takes them out on the dishes, unable to sit in uncomfortable silence when Evelyn excuses herself to use the bathroom. Theo scrubs away the remnants of breakfast on the plates, watches the crumbs wash down the sink.

Jacob sets empty plates on the counter next to him. “You know, we’re more alike than you think.”

As hard as he works to be nothing like his father, there’s a whisper of truth in those words.

Both father and son are at ease in a kitchen.

Both left cheeks dimple when they smile.

Both settled in their path instead of chasing after more.

Theo’s eyes shift from the dishes. “Yeah?”

Jacob nods, then says, voice low, “We both fell for women who deserve better.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

He hates himself the moment those words leave his lips, that he gave his father the exact reaction he provoked. Hot water scalds his knuckles. Theo feels the burn on his skin, in his chest. He drops the plate, and it clatters against stainless steel. Not even a grief-counseled,pastry chefingJacob Cohen can stop himself from speaking words that he knows will hurt.

“Don’t fuck it up. Be the man she deserves.”

“I—”

“Theodore?” Evelyn’s voice cuts him off, thankfully. “Ready to go home?”

Theo can’t escape fast enough. He says goodbye to his father with a curt nod, then watches Evelyn give him a stiff hug, the earlier warmth evaporated. Jacob asks if they’re still on for next week. He’s making croissants. She nods, then grabs Theo’s hand and leads him out the door, away from awkward words, away from painful memories, away from the house that stopped feeling like a home the moment his mother took her last breath within those walls.

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn says as soon as they’re in the car, as soon as it’s safe to feel.

Theo, seeing tears in her eyes, immediately softens. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she insists, her voice fierce,angry. “You’re right. Jacob’s stuff, his context… it’s not an excuse. And me pushingthis breakfast on you is because of my own stuff, which is, like, also not an excuse. I thought… I’m so sorry.”

“Ev. It’s okay.”

“No.” Tears fall down her cheeks, and his instinct is to reach toward her, to wipe them away. He doesn’t. “I see it. Okay? Iseeit. But the baking, the group therapy… I thought it’d be good for you to just see that he’s trying? But he’s not. At least not with you. I’m the actual worst.”

“I promise you’re not.”

Evelyn shakes her head, then is quiet for the short drive home, not speaking again until she parks and cuts the engine.

“I hope you don’t believe him.”

“What?”

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