ANNA

8. THE CASIMIRS

WHEN I GOT back to the house it was still empty. I invited Trace inside, and he came in with me. I was starving, so I told him I was going to make myself something to eat. He was fascinated that I could cook, and I laughed at him.

            “Of course I can cook,” I laughed. “Do you think my father could?”

            “I can cook,” Trace said defensively. “Men can cook, believe it or not.”

            “Well, the only thing my father could cook with was a barbecue and a microwave,” I replied. “If he didn’t have a can opener, we would have starved.”

            “Until you learned how to cook,” Trace said.

            I nodded. “Exactly. I’ve been cooking since I was eight, and I taught myself, too.”

            “You’re a very independent person.”

            I walked into the kitchen after stripping out of my jacket and hanging it on the coatrack. I opened the cupboards to see what we had. I didn’t want to cook anything extravagant because I knew Audrey would be cooking dinner as soon as she got home. So I settled for cooking myself some pot stickers and egg rolls on the stovetop.

            “Asian food?” Trace inquired.

            I nodded. “I love Asian food. In New York there’s this amazing Chinese takeout restaurant. My dad and I would order out from it all the time. I miss that place so much.”

            “If given the opportunity, would you move back to New York?” Trace asked me suddenly.

            The question took me by surprise, and I had to think about it for several moments. Two months ago my answer would have been instantaneous: yes. But now I had so much more to consider. There was Trace, for instance. I didn’t know if I could bear to leave him. I also had my family to consider. Could I stand living across the country from them? It was hard to know.

            “I don’t know,” I finally said. “I might go to visit, but I don’t think I could live so far away from Audrey and my sister…and you.”

            He smiled, and leaned over to kiss my head. “I figured you might have said that.”

            “You know me so well,” I said in a teasing way.

            “I do and you know it,” Trace joked right back with me.

            I looked over at him as I dropped pot stickers onto the pan. “So, what do I tell my mother the next time she ridicules me about boys?”

            “You tell her you have a boyfriend.”

            My eyes widened in surprise. “Um, okay.”

            “If that’s what you want from me, anyway,” Trace added.

            I nodded. “I do.”

            He smiled crookedly at me. Trace leaned over to kiss me, but just centimeters from my lips he froze. “Someone’s here,” Trace breathed.

            “Who?”

            “I’m not sure but if I had to guess it’s the Greathouses.”

            “Oh, no!”       

            “No kidding.”

            I bit my lip and thought about what to do. They obviously probably wouldn’t stay, seeing as Randy wasn’t around. So I could stash Trace in my bedroom until I got rid of Scotty and Buddy.