old soul | matthew gray gubler

25. bottle of red

i can't stop updating this book 👁👄👁

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"No, Shay! You can't put that in yet!"

"You're bad at this, Char."

"No, you're just not listening-"

"I am! You just suck at teaching people things!"

Charlotte couldn't help but throw her head back, loud, probably obnoxious laughter vibrating through her. Sheila, Shay for short, leaned against her, howling in Charlotte's ear. She playfully pushed the younger girl off of her. The mixing bowl she was cradling to her stomach sloshed pancake mix over the side. It smeared against her apron and Charlotte gasped.

"Look what you did!"

"That was you! You clumsy a-hole," Sheila accused.

Matt watched from the kitchen table, cupping a mug full of sweet tea John had poured him. He'd met Daniel, briefly, before the young boy retreated to his boy. He couldn't tell if he was grieving or just being a normal, teenaged boy. John sat beside Matthew, drinking a glass of Scotch, on the rocks. He'd offered Matt some, but he refused. He was too tired and the alcohol would put him to sleep.

He had eaten leftovers from lunch. Charlotte had been doing a lot of the cooking, which warmed Matt with the thought of it. It was late and he knew he'd probably feel sick soon, but he was starving and he loved her food. So, he didn't need much convincing when she spooned him a plate and microwaved it.

Charlotte continued to teach Sheila how to make the deep-fried Oreos. Matthew leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his sweet tea. John cleared his throat, turning to the boy.

"I hope you didn't get the wrong impression of my family based off of what Charlotte told you," John spoke, words structured and cautious. "Not saying she wrongly accused us of anything, just..."

Matt latched onto the trailed off sentence, "No, no. No, trust me, I didn't get that. I mean, I was angry because she was angry, sad because she was. But, she told me things were different. Things were better."

"I loved my wife," John began again, "but she could've been a better figure for Charlotte. She needed a mother and no one was there for her. Think she turned out pretty well on her own, though."

At his words, Matthew's eyes trailed off to Charlotte. He absentmindedly smiled, his arms felt like they were floating. She looked so pretty, hair in a messy bun, dressed down in leggings, his sweatshirt, an apron stating she gets kisses for cooking.

"Yeah, she did."

John watched the man's cheeks flush and he squinted his eyes in thought. "You love her?"

Matt turned his head back to John, "What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Have you told her?" He urged, tilting his glass to Matthew.

He shifted in his seat, eyes moving away from his elder. "Not, yet."

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "You need to, man. You gotta. Life is too short."