Page 18 of Inked Heart

IKEA was great. We got the crib and a million little things for his kitchen. I may not be giving up my apartment yet, but there is no reason I can’t enjoy cooking in his awesome kitchen.

After we get home, I lay down to take a nap. IKEA is like going to a theme park. My feet hurt bad. After a couple hours of sleep, my cell phone rings. I groggily answer it.

“Hello?”

“Where are you? You are late!” Miles’ voice is gruff when he is pissed.

“Um, I am in bed. What do you want?”

“It’s time for our weekly dinner. Chip and Dex are already here.”

If those two beat me there, I am late.

“Fuck. We’ll be right there.” I hang up the phone and hop out of bed. I leave El’s t-shirt on and pull on some jeans.

“El!” I yell out as I walk out of the bedroom.

“Yeah, baby.” He says from the couch, where is watching a Twins baseball game.

“We’re late.” I say as I rush past him. He still has his shoes on from earlier. That is a pet peeve of mine, shoes should be taken off at the front door. I hate dirty floors. I slip on some flip flops even though its growing colder. There’s no way I can put my feet back in shoes right now.

“For what?”

“Dinner with my brothers.” At my parents’ house. Miles’ inherited everything, including Dex, me, and Chip. He dropped out of college and started tattooing because he was able to learn while we were at school.

Once I could see over the stove without a stool, I cooked every meal. His attempts were awful, and we mainly had Subway and pizza. I used my mom’s old as dirt Betty Crocker cookbook from the fifties. You know, the plaid one. I became a tattoo artist because it was free, but if I am honest with myself I’d always wanted to be a chef.

“You want me to come with you?” He says, drawing me out of my memories.

“Yes. Unless you have plans or something. I want you to formally meet them.”

“No, I want to come. I am glad that you want me to really meet them.” He goes back to the kitchen counter and grabs his wallet and keys.

“Let’s go. I am already twenty minutes late and I still have to cook.”

“They make you cook?”

“Not make. I enjoy it. It’s the only home cooked meal they get in a weeks’ time.”

“Oh. What are we having?”

“Tacos.” I say walking toward the truck, while he locks the front door.

“Awesome.” We make it to my brother’s house in about ten minutes.

We walk in and I head towards the kitchen. The guys are watching the same ball game.

“Guys.” Those dicks ignore me. I move to stand in front of the TV. “Guys.”

“What?” Chip says. He’s sipping a beer, though he isn’t old enough. I take it from him.

“You know my rules, Chip. Just because I don’t live here anymore doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”

“It kind of does.” He rolls his eyes at me. He needs to get his anger in check. I won’t start crying. I won’t.

“Ugh, asshole. This is my…” I am not in high school. Boyfriend sounds too tame for what EL and I have. “Baby daddy, Eldridge Monte-q. “I finish lamely, but with the truth.

Nothing fazes them at this point though and that makes me sad. Miles already knew because I was sick at the shop, but Dex and Chip knew nothing about it.

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