Page 138 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“‘Who is this?’ ‘Nobody.’” He takes the sizzling butter off the heat and squeezes half a lemon over it. “A cosplayer, a carpenter, a mess of a student who still hasn’t graduated and aspires to nothing loftier than summer Shakespeare festivals.”
“Oh, Mike,” I say, rising.
“One step closer and story time ends. My train of thought is very fragile at the moment…and I just lost it again.”
“You were about to tell me how you found your courage to attend Eaton’s birthday party.”
Mike groans. “Oh. That was a mistake. From start to finish.”
“Ouch.”
He macerates the blackberries in the bowl. “I convinced myself that you would have forgotten all about me. I’d show up. I’d meet your soon-to-be fiancé, a man twice my size with an Ivy League education. Coxswain of the rowing team. ‘Have a serving of humble pie, Mike.’ Teach me to put on airs. Stay in my lane.” He adds a pinch of sugar to the blackberries. “But you were not at all what I thought. I shouldn’t have snooped—I swear I would have immediately backed out of your bedroom if it wasn’t for the books.”
“And cacti?”
His mouth quirks into a smile before he cracks the egg into the bowl of sugar. “That was a revelation. I’d already caught feelings, but things got out of hand after that.”
“Elaborate.”
“You’re adorable. Feisty and adorable. Sexy and adorable. Whip-smart and adorable.”
“Prickly and adorable?”
“She gets it.” He adds the sugar to the dry ingredients. “So many threads to pull. And pulling threads is—”
“Let me guess. Interesting?” I steal over to the sink and squeeze the rest of the lemon into a glass before rinsing the knife and cutting board.
“Fascinating. All-consuming. Life-giving. But I messed things up. I was a jerk.”
“An insightful jerk.” I grab the cranberry juice from the fridge along with a bottle of Pellegrino.
“I blew it.” Mike adds the melted butter to the mixing bowl. “You surprised me, and I was embarrassed, and I should have apologized for intruding. I should have been honest and explained how I didn’t mean to get stuck leafing through your books. I should have told you I wanted to call—but then you’d know how I felt. I made a choice in the moment to mask the truth with bravado.”
Vanilla and chocolate chips are the next ingredients Mike dumps into the bowl. I watch with undisguised rapture as he stirs the ingredients into a sticky batter. “When I left the party, I was angry. At you. At me. At life. I never wanted to see you again, and you were all I thought about.” He glances up at me shyly, and my heart free-falls. “Dream girl with a dream car.”
“I thought you hated my car.” I pour a splash of cranberry juice into the glass with the squeeze of lemon.
“Are you kidding? It’s a classic.” He strains the blackberries before gently folding them into the batter. “It’s style and substance. It was too much. Like a kick in the teeth when I was already on the floor reeling.”
He scoops the batter onto the cookie sheet. “I was already at level nurse-that-crush-for-the-rest-of-my-life. I’d work like a dog every day because I had so much more to prove after the party at your parents’ house. And then I showed up at that café and learned you were the one moving into the cottage. It was a bad idea. You were all I thought about, we didn’t get along, and now you were living here.”
I add enough Pellegrino to the glass to dilute the cranberry juice to a pretty pink. “What if I had told you I was already in love with you after reading your annotated books?”
Mike laughs. “It wouldn’t have made it any easier. You learned who I was and justly hated me in spite of my love of Shakespeare.”
I edge closer to him. “No. I thought I knew who you were, but it took me longer to figure you out. But I do know you, Michael Benedick. You’re a once-in-a-generation stage actor, sure. A man who loves his grandma and mama and is honoring their legacy by restoring a beach house.” I hand him the drink, and my heart beats faster when his fingers brush mine. “You see the best in everyone and wish them happiness. And listen long enough to help even a lonely kitty in need.”
Mike sets the glass down.
“Yes, you captured my initial attention, but you inspired my affection again and again just by being you.” I’m at his side, curling my fingers around his waist, leaning my head against his back. I feel him melt against me. “Do you want to kiss me now?”
He picks me up and sets me on the kitchen counter. “I always want to kiss you.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Sometimes I do too.”
Chapter 41
I walk dogs, then race back to spend every spare moment with Mike. He comes home from work or class, taps on my door, and we talk and flirt before he kisses me good night. I bounce into his kitchen the next morning and steal kisses along with cranberry juice and blackberries.
