Page 23 of If You Say So

“You’re right. I’m just being an ass. I guess Blake wasn’t fond of the way I worded something to Mateo and things sort of…escalated, but they seemed to work them out, although Mateo did decide to cancel their study date. I tried not to listen in too much.”

Elliott barks out a short laugh. “Not that you didn’t listen, just not too much, right?”

I throw her a wink. “You know it, sister.”

“And everything is okay now?”

“Yeah. I actually think Blake’s just out there apologizing again.”

“For what?”

“Trying to make Mateo his rebound guy.”

Carsen’s brows shoot up. “Did he say that?”

“Who? Mateo? Basically.”

“Wow.” He whistles. “Damn. Think I might like that kid.”

“I think—” I start, but Blake pushes open the door, cutting my words off.

“All right, where’s the food? I’m starving.”

“Right here.”

Elliott shoves a bag his way and the two make their way into the kitchen, leaving Carsen and me standing in the foyer.

“You good?” he asks after a few beats of silence.

“Huh?”

“With this?”

“Chinese? Yeah, man. I love Chinese food.”

He doesn’t let my obvious brush-off go. “I mean with him trying to move on and everything.”

I exhale an exasperated breath and scrub my hand over my face, shooting my eyes skyward. “No, Carsen. I’m not good.” I give my head a shake and drop my stare to him again. “But I am hungry. Let’s go grab some grub before your girlfriend eats it all.”

He studies me a moment before clapping me on the shoulder and saying, “Excellent point. Dibs on the egg rolls.”

We make our way into the kitchen, where I expect to find Elliott alone, but I’m pleasantly surprised to discover Blake still downstairs and digging into his white rice.

It wasn’t always like that. In fact, I don’t remember a single time we didn’t eat at the table, even when it was just me, Blake, and Carsen. Dinner at the table was our thing. We were a family, and dammit, we were going to act like one.

But lately it’s been Blake and me rotating between who gets to eat dinner down here with everyone else.

I grab my lo mein and a fork from the stack of silverware on the table then take a seat in ‘my’ spot. I don’t open my container of food.

I wait.

Wait for someone to say something, for Blake to get up and leave.

But nothing happens. Everyone starts eating, and eventually a conversation starts to flow. Only then do I peel the lid off my meal and begin to eat.

Maybe—just maybe—things are returning to normal.

---