Page 26 of Wrapped Up In You
But right now, with the way Jonathan was looking at me, I’d never been so terrified. He was looking at me like I was something special. Like maybe I meant something to him. And I realized that I wanted that more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. But what would happen when it all fell apart? Because things in my life usually did. Because Jonathan and I were so different—in age, personality, and our worldviews. Because our parents likely wouldn’t accept any of this. And how would I fix it this time? How would I fix the damage to our family? Or my own broken heart?
Needing to put some space between us, I stood and grabbed the guitar case. “I should probably get dinner started. You said you bought a chicken for roasting?”
Jonathan stood and faced me, eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” My voice cracked like that meme of Ross saying “I’m fine” fromFriends.
He arched a brow at my obvious lie. “I don’t know. You just seem…twitchy.”
“What does that even mean?” I turned and placed the guitar in the case. “I told you I’m fine.” I was gratified that I’d managed to keep my voice more even this time.
“Okay, well, why don’t I help you with dinner?”
“No, that’s alright. I’ve got it. You just relax with your Kindle.”
I set my guitar in the corner and walked into the kitchen.
15
JONATHAN
Ifrowned as I watched Hayden walk away. Something was clearly bothering him, and though he’d denied it, I had a feeling it had something to do with what was happening between us. Though maybe that was me projecting my own feelings on the situation.
So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and I didn’t understand any of it. How was it possible to fall for someone so quickly? Someone you’d already known for years but, as it turned out, hadn’t really known at all. Someone you were starting to realize might hold the key to unlocking the best parts of you. How had any of this happened in just a couple of days? And what was I going to do about it?
Hayden rummaged around in the kitchen, pulling out the chicken, herbs, onion, butter, and lemon. Most of the things I’d bought at the grocery store had been your typical bachelor basics, but I’d bought the ingredients for roast chicken thinking that even though I was spending Christmas alone, I might want to at least have this one nice meal. I’d stood in the middle of the market, just a few miles away from the cabin, searching for recipes online. The one I’d chosen had seemed straightforward, but Hayden wasn’t even using a recipe.
I pulled the stool he’d been using while he played back over to the counter and sat down, watching him work. He’d already preheated the oven and was currently deftly dicing an onion. He then went to work on the herbs, stripping leaves off stems and giving them a rough chop. He rummaged through some drawers, then produced a small grater. He picked up the lemon and grated the peel with expert precision, turning it a little with each swipe. He added some minced garlic, salt, and pepper and then mixed it all together with a couple of spoonfuls of butter from a tub I’d bought so I could make toast for breakfast.
I watched in amazement as he began to shove the butter mixture under the skin with his bare hands. It was messy, but the lemon and herbs smelled amazing. Once he was finished, he placed the chicken in the oven and then got to work on the vegetables.
I was impressed by the competency of his work, sure that preparing the chicken would have taken me twice as long, and though I hadn’t tasted the final product yet, mine likely wouldn’t have tasted nearly as good. He thought he was a failure, but only because he was measuring himself against the wrong stick. We all had been. He still hadn’t told me what his college degree was in, but with the little bit I knew about his father, it was probably something related to business.
And I couldn’t fault his father for that. Wasn’t that how society measured success? With your business acumen? I was a corporate accountant, for fuck’s sake, just like my own father. I actually happened to like it, and I was good at it. Numbers were logical and orderly. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Hayden wasn’t meant for that type of thing. The world of business would be stifling for him. And it had nothing to do with his intelligence. I had no doubt he could conquer the business world if he chose to do so, but what if he had the freedom to conquer something else? Something that he was passionate about?
Hayden wasn’t meant to sit idle. He was meant to move. To create. To soar.
After watching his skills in the kitchen over the last couple of days, I was sure he could be a chef. But he’d said he’d gone through a cooking phase and then lost interest. He’d expressed a desire in becoming a professional musician, and I also had no doubt he could be successful in that as well. I’d be willing to bet he was an excellent server. He’d be constantly in motion, friendly with his customers, and probably pulled in great tips. Most people didn’t consider that a successful career, but why not? If he enjoyed it, was good at it, and it was paying the bills, why shouldn’t that be a measure of success?
“Do you like serving? At the restaurant, I mean?”
He paused in the middle of dicing potatoes and looked up. “I guess so?”
I chuckled. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I mean, yeah, I like serving. But why do you ask?” He picked up the knife and resumed chopping.
“Well, I was just thinking that if you want to be a musician, you could continue serving to pay the bills while you try to get the music thing off the ground.”
“You really think I could be a musician?” I hated how much doubt leached into his question.
“I absolutely do. You’re amazing. Do you want to go at it solo or join a band?”
“Hang on.” He finished prepping the potatoes and popped them into the oven with the chicken. After pouring out two glasses of wine, he handed one to me, still standing in the kitchen with the counter between us. I wouldn’t have taken him for a wine drinker, but he’d done nothing but surprise me since he’d gotten here. I supposed I ought to stop making assumptions altogether and just enjoy him for who he was rather than who I thought he might be.
“So I don’t want to be, like, some big rockstar or anything. I just want to play locally in coffee houses and bars and such. Maybe the occasional music festival. But I don’t know if I can make a living at that.”
“Could you do the server thingandthe music thing? With both incomes combined, could you make a living?”
