Treading The Waters [on hold]

Chapter Fifteen

If she truly understood how much I love cooking and what it means for me, then she wouldn't get irritated when I cover for Billy at night.

"I told you earlier that I was working," I say. I'm starting to think she didn't forget and wanted to check up on me. Why she would do that I just don't know.

As if the world wanted to throw another awkward moment at me, Baya comes into the restaurant and walks right up to the counter where we are.

"What are you doing here, Baya? Came to see Jensen?" Nikki quips.

Baya's thrown off by Nikki's remark but reaches across the counter just as I hand her the bag of food. "No. I just came to get my dinner."

Nikki huffs then looks back to her phone, as if she wasn't completely rude to Baya for no reason.

"I made it just how you've always liked it," I half-smile as I look back to Baya. "Do you remember that day? You slipped in oil, and everything went flying."

Baya starts laughing, the memories coming back to her. "I'm pretty sure I had a bruised tailbone for like a month."

"I vaguely remember that donut thing you sat on," I say. "Dad picked on you for month's about how you broke your ass," I laugh.

"Not a fun time," she laughs in return. Baya slides her gaze to Nikki and then quickly retreats. She coughs, picking up her bag again and nodding. "Thanks for the food. Have a good night."

She doesn't say anything else and quickly leaves. I look over to Nikki who is glaring daggers at her the whole way out of the door. Turning around, I head back to the kitchen, not wanting to deal with the attitude she clearly has right now. I deal with enough attitude at home—I'm not bringing it with me to work.

The rest of the night goes by rather quickly and the cleanup isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. Nikki follows me back to the house once I close the restaurant. Before going inside, I take a deep breath, not ready to deal with whatever is about to be thrown at me.

It's eerily quiet when we're inside. Lyla is always shut up in her room and Jax usually comes in late from work. Neither one of us say anything as we head to my room—I mean, you could cut the tension with a knife.

"What's going on with you lately?" I ask Nikki as I'm taking off my work clothes and changing into something more comfortable.

"Jensen. What's my favorite food?" Okay, where the hell did that come from?

"Um, lobster tail."

"You're wrong," she sighs. "It's Coq Au Vin. What about my favorite color?"

"Red," I answer. I know it's so because she wears the color frequently.

"You're wrong. It's baby pink."

She moves from where she's standing in the door to sitting on the bed next to me. I go to grab her hand—sensing that something is wrong—but she deflects my gesture.

"Why don't you ever talk about a future with me, Jensen?"

"What do you mean?"

"We've been together going on a year. Not once have you mentioned a future together—like kids, or marriage. Damn it, you've never even mentioned living together!" Her voice is climbing octaves as she speaks. Anger and hurt are becoming more and more evident. It's like the flip just switched in her, and I have no clue what brought it on.

"I just thought we were taking it slow," I say honestly.

"How fucking blind are you?" She stands up so fast that I barely register the movement. "I've been dropping hints for two months! You've met my parents for Christ's sake. That usually happens when you're serious about someone."