Page 70 of Ours to Lose
He lifted his brows. “You telling this one over takeout or drinks?”
“You needto carry pepper spray or something,” Evan said as we walked into my apartment a little later, a paper bag of Indian food in hand.
“I carry a chef knife most of the time. Does that count?” I joked.
He set the food bag on my counter and pinned me with his serious face. “I don’t like him cornering you like that. Not to mention, any drunk guy at a wedding or creep on the street could sneak up on you at night after an event. It’s not safe.”
I snatched the bag from him and pulled out containers. “All right,Dad, I’ll be careful. Can we talk about your job now?”
We made our way to my small round table in the corner and ate while Evan told me about the rumor that the current creative director of his graphic design agency might retire next year. It meant a huge opportunity for a promotion for someone on the team.
“You thinking of trying for it? Or do you still want to start your own company?” I asked between forkfuls of chicken korma. He’d mentioned doing it more than once. Even took on some freelance projects to build a portfolio outside of his agency work.
“I’d rather the promotion. I already have good relationships with a bunch of our clients. I just want the chance to do more.”
“Plus, the raise would be nice.”
“I guess. I won’t really need it as long as I’m living with Dad. Nothing says creative director like sleeping in your childhood bed, right?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes stayed downcast.
“Do you want your own place again?” He’d given up his Center City apartment when he moved in with his dad.
“I mean, I want one. But I don’t think I should leave Dad yet. The house would be too quiet for him alone.”
“Maybe Gabe could move in with him.” There was an old apartment above the gym he planned to renovate once he owned the building, but he could always rent it out for the extra income if he decided to live with his dad for a while.
Evan snorted. “The guy who would rather sleep in an abandoned building than stay at home? Sure.”
“You could ask him,” I said. “He might surprise you.”
For all the reasons Gabe preferred sleeping at the gym—reasons he hadn’t said outright but I sensed were tied to his mom—he spent a huge chunk of his free time at home with his dad. Pretty much whenever he wasn’t training or with me, he was there, watching whatever game was on with his dad or helping with projects around the house.
I knew Evan had noticed from how often he’d started staying late at work or grabbing dinner with me. For as much as he beat on Gabe for avoiding his family, he’d been doing a five-star job of it himself. I’d call him out for how alike he was to his brother, but he wouldn’t take it as the compliment he used to when we were teens.
It didn’t change that both he and Gabe cared about their dad. If their dad or Evan—especially Evan—asked Gabe to help, he’d want to do it.
“I don’t want him to surprise me. I just…want him to go away.”
I lowered my fork. “Do you really?”
He didn’t answer. Just ripped off a piece of naan and dragged it through his sauce.
“What if you tried talking to him? Not about anything big, just…ask to see the gym or something. He’d love to show you that.”
“I doubt he cares.”
“You know that’s not true. And I really think you’ll be excited about it. It’s not a lot to look at right now, but the space has so much potential. Especially when you hear what he plans for it.”
He let out a breath and met my gaze, studying me as if deciding whether to say something.
“What?”
“You two are hooking up, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question. Not really.
It also wasn’t said with anger or disappointment. Just a need to know.
I swallowed the urge to deny it. He’d be able to tell I was lying anyway. “Yes.”
He leaned back in his seat. “I thought you said you didn’t have a crush on him anymore?”
