I’m ready to throw caution to the wind, right here in his brother’s kitchen. My stomach flips, and my chest flops, and both Nancy and I are in agreement.
With his face still in my hands, I lean into him, a gust of breath coasting over my lips. It sounds like an admission. Like my sigh says kiss me.
Lord knows, my body says it as I tilt my face and wait.
Wait. Wait.
It’s that heady moment when two people edge together. When you watch a movie or a show, and the inevitable, slow, intoxicating slide into a kiss begins.
He’s so close I can smell his aftershave. My mouth aches for him.
And I want to get lost in a kiss.
“Who needs some more of the world’s finest potato salad?” Harlan’s voice slices through the air as the back door swings open.
We wrench apart.
“Hey, now. I’ve been eyeing that cherry pie you brought. You better not hold out on me,” Jason chimes in.
That’s all it takes.
We move away from each other like we’ve been scalded. Frustration takes over for a beat, but then that excited energy returns because holy shit. We just got ourselves a deal.
The guys stroll into the house, shoes slapping as they near the kitchen, followed by Katie and Sydney.
“Oh, you’re finally going to let yourself put cherries in that temple of a body,” Harlan teases Jason.
Jason gestures to his big frame. “I’ve been known to corrupt this temple from time to time,” he says.
Harlan hoots then points dramatically to the counter. “Let the corruption begin. Get this man a slice of the best cherry pie ever,” he says, grabbing the pink box with one of his famous homemade pies inside.
The former star player bakes with his young daughter in his spare time, and from what Katie tells me, that’s an ovary-melting sight. No wonder Katie’s preggers.
“Oh, hey there,” Harlan says on the path to the pie, maybe noticing us for the first time. He stops in his tracks, shooting me a what’s up? look. “Did we interrupt something devilishly important? From the looks of it, you two were making predictions for the next football season or debating whether dark chocolate is better than milk.”
“Dark chocolate,” Nolan says quickly.
Jason looks from Nolan to me, his eyes a clock pendulum as he assesses us shrewdly, like he assesses plays on the field. “Wrong answer. Milk chocolate,” he teases, then the guys beeline for the pie, bypassing the potato salad.
Katie’s the only one who seems to understand the intensity of this moment. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve just won an Oscar,” she says, tilting her head.
“I feel that way,” I blurt out. Then I let the good news—great news—rush through my body one more time, and I stand a little taller. “You’re looking at the stars of the next new restaurant show on the world’s biggest streaming service. Webflix just picked up our show for a season, and they want us to film it in New York for a month.”
Katie screams in excitement. “Yes! I knew it, friend! I knew it!”
Harlan high-fives me. “Congratulations, you badass people.”
Jason strides across the kitchen to wrap his big brother in a hug. “Dude! So proud of you.”
My heart climbs up my throat as I watch the two of them share the joy.
Just look at this. Look at what we have. And I nearly threw it all away for a kiss.
We crack open beers and wine, and Katie grabs a soda, then we move to the living room, where there is pie and laughter and excitement.
Jason lifts his beer, toasts to us, then to Nolan. “To the guy who’s always had my back since I was fourteen. You know what I’m talking about. You know it. And I fucking love you, and I fucking knew you’d get here,” he says, voice thick with emotion as he clinks glasses with Nolan. “That’s why I bet on you.”
“You did, man. And of course I had your back,” Nolan says quietly. He dips his head, a little embarrassed, but there’s such sweetness, such brotherly love between them. I’m pretty sure I know what Jason must be talking about at age fourteen, but now’s not the time to ask Nolan or Jason for details, so I file those comments away.
Jason clears his throat, then rubs his palms together. “Who wants more pie and a viewing sesh of the best of How to Eat a Banana?”
Katie waves a hand high. “I do! I do! Can we play along and guess what the hosts will rate the food?”
“Hell, yes,” Carter says.
“I’m in,” Sydney adds.
Jason grabs the remote, flicks on the big screen, and toggles over to YouTube.
“Home page champions . . . of the world,” he sings, channeling Queen for a moment.
Jason plays some of our funniest episodes, and our friends make a drinking game of guessing our ratings. Then YouTube auto-plays into an older episode, before Nolan’s time.