Recipe for Two Read online

  “Izzy’s car won’t start, so he’s joining us for dinner,” Justin said, and then turned so he could see Izzy and the teens as they came up to the edge of the yard. “Izzy, this is my husband, Del Abbot. Del, this is Izzy Kostas, my newest employee.”

  Izzy felt Del’s gaze measure him, but he had a significantly more relaxed and friendly way of doing it than Justin had when they’d first met. There wasn’t that hard, suspicious edge in Del’s friendly eyes.

  “Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Abbot,” Izzy said politely, shaking his hand.

  “It’s Del, and it’s good to meet you too. We’re not having lasagna tonight, by the way,” Del said as he let go of Izzy’s hand and they all turned to walk toward the house together. “I might’ve made some spaghetti and meatballs instead.”

  “What happened to the rest of the lasagna?” Wyatt piped up, having been quiet until then.

  “I’ll put it in the freezer. Some for family dinners and some for lunches. You know how that goes.” Del chuckled.

  “Must be nice to have a chef—” Izzy started, then glanced at Wyatt and corrected himself “—chefs in the family.” Wyatt blushed deep crimson and almost stumbled as he walked on even ground.

  “Yes, we’re very proud of Wyatt. He’s going to come with me in a few months when I go shoot a new show around the world. He also has a really good apprenticeship lined up in France,” Del said, his voice filled with so much pride. Izzy had never heard such thing aimed at himself.

  He glanced at Wyatt, whose expression had shifted just a little bit. Interesting.

  They got inside and ended up at the dinner table in no time flat. The dogs were left in the living room and they happily congregated on an assigned couch and some dog beds, which again, was impressive as fuck. Had Izzy been a dog, he would’ve gone to one of the humans-only couches just out of spite.

  As they filled their plates, nobody really talked a lot which suited Izzy just fine. He wasn’t much of a talker and this kind of being the fifth wheel of his boss’s family dinner shit wasn’t in his wheelhouse. Wheel in a wheelhouse, hah.

  “You got some calls today?” Justin asked his husband when they all started to eat.

  Izzy was happy to listen to them and carefully observe their interactions. Del was handsome as fuck, even Izzy could tell that. He had crow’s feet and most of his beard was gray, as was his hair he had up in a bun. Izzy wondered if the chopstick poking out of the bun was something holding it together or if he’d just put it there and forgot its existence.

  Lettie seemed to be in her own world, as she very neatly ate her food, but something about Wyatt felt a little off. Not that Izzy knew enough of him to be sure, but there was something different about the kid now.

  Wyatt ate in a weird, almost jerky way, like his concentration wasn’t there and he snapped into action, remembered he was supposed to be having dinner, every now and then.

  Izzy’s phone beeped, and he dug it out, frowning apologetically. They all knew it was about his ride, but still.

  “He’s going to be at the greenhouses in about an hour and a half,” Izzy informed them.

  “Good, you have plenty of time to eat and you’re welcome to hang out here if you want to,” Justin said, and Del echoed his sentiment with his own.

  “Thanks, it’s—” Izzy wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. He went with the truth. “It’s been a long time since I was at a family dinner table. Or any dinner table, really. Not with…not with friends, anyway.” He felt awkward and ducked his head, then dug into his spaghetti. “This is probably the best meal I’ve ever had, by the way,” he added, glancing at Del who beamed at him.

  “Thank you! When I first met these guys and Harper, she’s off to college now, I realized there were a lot of things I could do to modernize some old home recipes and make them healthier and still affordable at the same time.”

  “Don’t get him started,” Lettie murmured under her breath, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Her delivery was so deadpan, Izzy got worried for two seconds, until the corner of her mouth lifted slightly and Del laughed out loud, with both Justin and Wyatt snickering quietly.

  “Okay, okay, I’ve taken the subtle hint,” Del said in a mockingly put off tone.

  “So, traveling around the world? What’s that like?” Izzy asked, because he genuinely wanted to know and not concentrate on himself.

  Del started to talk about his travels back with his first husband—Izzy felt dumb about realizing that gay people could have whole past lives and be in their second marriages too—and then the few trips they’d all taken as a family since they came to California fifteen years ago.

  “And now I’ll be going on an extended trip with Wyatt and my film crew,” Del concluded happily.

  From the corner of his eye, Izzy saw Wyatt shrink in his seat.

  “Is Wyatt going to be in the show too?” he asked and watched as Wyatt got even smaller.

  “Probably in some episodes, but we have that apprenticeship lined up, so he’ll stay in France once we’re done filming there.”

  “That must be a great opportunity, getting to work in France like that?” Izzy feigned innocence, but kept an eye on Wyatt as he listened to Del’s answer.

  “Oh yes, and the pastry chef he’s going to apprentice under is the number one in the world, currently. It’s definitely something not just everyone can get. He’ll of course still have to pass the basic tests the chef will set for him, just to see his base level, so to speak, but Wyatt has been cooking since he was little, so he’ll have no problems with that sort of thing.” Again, the pride made Del’s voice different.

  “Hey, Lettie said Jimmy came to the house?” Justin asked suddenly, and Izzy remembered a white guy that screamed former-white-supremacist-trying-to-do-better from the greenhouses.

  Wyatt cleared his throat and sat up a little. “Uh, yeah. His girlfriend is pregnant and they wanted cupcakes for a baby shower. I’m going to make them for them.”

  “That’s nice. I know they’re having some money issues, so it’s great they have someone like you to ask.”

  For a moment, Izzy wondered what that meant. It could’ve been a slight to Wyatt’s skills, but it didn’t feel like that.

  “Wyatt charges for only the ingredients if the person making the order is low income,” Del explained for Izzy’s comfort.

  “Yes, and charges the rightful cost of his excellent skills if the person is wealthy,” Justin said with some not at all hidden glee.

  Wyatt ducked his head and blushed again, his long hair falling to cover his face, but not before Izzy saw how pleased he looked.

  “Do you do other things or just cupcakes and cookies?” Izzy asked as he reached for another piece of the obviously homemade garlic bread.

  “Yeah, I make cakes. I do anything from simple ones like cheesecakes to big wedding cakes. It’s really something I like to do. I’ve been thinking about learning about different kinds of breads next,” Wyatt said, a spark in his eye that definitely wasn’t there before. Then he seemed to catch up to what he’d just said, and deflated just a tiny bit. “But I guess we’ll see.”

  “I love bakeries,” Izzy said. “I used to live a block from one as a kid and the baker was a friend of my dad’s. He used to give me treats and fresh bread to take home. It was really nice.” It had felt like a safe place, up until he was uprooted at nine when his parents divorced and Mom pulled him away from everything he’d ever known.

  “Yeah, they’re awesome. Those little neighborhood ones, especially. Did you know that in some places, whenever a business space becomes available close to a bakery, there can be bidding wars when people want to get their businesses close to one? Because people love the scent of freshly baked goods so much?” Wyatt babbled with enthusiasm again, and Izzy found it…lovely.

  “I didn’t know that, but it honestly makes so much sense. I don’t think I’ve ever walked past a bakery and not smiled at the scent.”

  Wyatt flashed him
a shy smile, and something inside Izzy warmed significantly.

  “So, Lettie, how are the dogs doing?” Del asked, and Lettie put her fork down, looked at her dad—that was what the kids called him it seemed—and began to explain every dog’s progress in detail.

  * * * *

  After dinner, Izzy insisted on helping to clear the table, and Justin and Lettie helped him while Wyatt ran off to somewhere. Del went to answer another call, which made Justin a bit tense.

  It couldn’t be easy to know that your lover would leave for months soon. It was obvious how happy and in love they were, and it made something inside Izzy restless in a way that he couldn’t exactly define. It seemed a shame, that was all.

  “You could go with him for a while?” he blurted out, making Justin snap his gaze to him.

  Then Justin smiled slightly. “I guess so. I just haven’t really…I have so much to do here, you know? The kids could deal of course, but with Wyatt going too, it’d leave Lettie here on her own since she’s got school.”

  Lettie huffed. “I’m not a kid, Justin.”

  “I know you’re not, but still. Leaving the business too, even for a week or two…”

  Izzy wondered if Justin knew he’d said “if” Wyatt goes and how much he actually sounded like he wanted to go for a bit himself.

  “I guess there’s still time.” Then something possessed him, some weird feeling he had about Wyatt and his behavior, and he asked, “So Wyatt’s big on the simple stuff, huh?”

  Justin opened his mouth, then closed it and gave him an assessing look. “I guess you can put it like that, yeah.”

  Neither of them continued the conversation from that, but Izzy felt like he’d done something that might’ve been good. He just didn’t know how exactly yet.

  Chapter 7

  Aunt Bernie, Dad’s sister, had this saying she liked to use. When she wanted to drop someone a hint, she said, “Let me just go put a bug in her ear about that.” When he’d been a little kid, Wyatt had thought she carried around a jar of bugs in her handbag or something, and released them when she wanted them to whisper things in people’s ears. It had taken him a long time—and several sneaky searches through Aunt Bernie’s handbag—to figure out it was just a saying.

  And now Izzy, Wyatt thought, had put a bug in Justin’s ear. It had to have been him. Wyatt wasn’t sure how since he’d escaped after dinner because Izzy’s presence was making him act weirder than usual: he was either too quiet, then made up for it by babbling in a rush, or he was too still, then made up for it by flailing everywhere. He’d felt like he was trying to keep his balance the whole dinner, and messing it up either way, and all because Izzy was hot, and all because whenever their gazes met Wyatt felt, somehow, totally exposed. Like Izzy was seeing him in a way that usually people didn’t. It had been nerve-wracking.

  But Izzy had definitely said something, because after he was gone Justin came into Wyatt’s room and looked at the passport form on his desk and said, “You still haven’t filled this out?”

  “I’m getting to it,” Wyatt said, his heart beating fast.

  And Justin looked at him carefully—why the hell were people suddenly seeing him?—and nodded slowly at last. “You don’t have to.”

  Wyatt flinched. “What?”

  “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Justin said. “You know that, right?”

  Wyatt snorted, hoping it covered his sudden burst of panic. “Of course I know that! I want to go!”

  And why did he even say that? Here was Justin, offering him the perfect out, so why didn’t Wyatt take it? And he thought it was maybe because he didn’t want to have that talk where he would have to explain to Dad and Justin why he didn’t want to go, when he didn’t even know what the reason was himself except he was scared. And he was ashamed and embarrassed at the thought of having to admit that, because who wouldn’t be? He was nineteen, almost twenty, and he had nothing to be scared of anyway.

  “Okay,” Justin said. “What are you working on?”

  Wyatt closed his laptop. “Just looking at ideas for Jimmy’s cupcakes. They don’t want to do pink or blue, so I thought maybe I’d make them all different pastel colors. I was looking for something similar to send Jenna.”

  Justin nodded. “That was interesting tonight, what you said about people wanting to buy business space near bakeries because of the smell.”

  Wyatt shrugged.

  “I guess we never had to,” Justin said, “since smells like that come right from our kitchen. Between you and Del we’ve got it covered.”

  “Bakeries aren’t restaurants,” Wyatt said. “It’s a different smell.”

  Justin smiled. “Right. But you guys cook a lot of bread between you.”

  It was different, Wyatt thought. He didn’t want to be the pâtissier in a restaurant. He didn’t want to have a counter in someone else’s kitchen, waiting for the rush of the dinner service to end before the orders came flooding in for desserts. Turning up earlier than all the other chefs to give his doughs time to rise, and finishing later than everyone except the dishwashers because people liked to linger when it came to ordering dessert. He liked working beside Dad in his kitchen, but he’d seen enough commercial kitchens to know how loud and fast and angry they could be. The first time Alain Donadieu yelled at him, Wyatt knew he’d cry in front of everyone.

  He curled his hands into loose fists so that Justin couldn’t see his hands were shaking.

  “It’ll be great,” he lied. “It’ll be amazing.”

  Justin smiled and ruffled his hair, and left him to it.

  Wyatt didn’t sleep well.

  * * * *

  “I like a boy,” Lettie announced the next day, her eyes narrow as though this was an unhappy event.

  Wyatt looked up from the dog he was petting. “Oh.”

  “He’s seventeen,” Lettie said. “He likes dogs and anime and he skates.” She sat down on the front step beside him and sighed heavily.

  “Does he like you too?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yes,” Lettie said, and wrinkled her nose. “The weirdo.”

  Wyatt laughed. “So what’s the problem?”

  “He wants me to go to the movies with him,” Lettie said and gestured at herself.

  Lettie was wearing her usual Converse, denim overalls with a plain T-shirt underneath, and a cap jammed over her hair. Her sun-bleached hair, with hints of strawberry blonde in it, was pulled back into its usual two utilitarian braids.

  Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “You’re not asking me for fashion advice, are you?”

  Lettie huffed out a laugh. “No! I already texted Harper and she told me what to wear. But I want to do my hair different than usual.”

  “Like a ponytail or something?” Wyatt asked. “Or wear it out?”

  “No, like, you know…” She wrinkled her nose. “Nice.” She showed him a picture on her phone. “This is called a waterfall braid. It’s what I want, but I tried to do it earlier and it was a mess. Can I practice on you? If you don’t want to, I’ll ask Dad but I don’t know when he has time to sit still.”

  Wyatt looked at the picture. The girl in it had a loose braid encircling her head like a coronet, her hair flowing out underneath it. It was beautiful and romantic. It was the sort of hairstyle that looked like it should have had flowers woven through it.

  Wyatt’s stomach clenched. He’d woken up this morning feeling like it was a not-boy day, and he felt a rush of hot want when he saw the waterfall braid and imagined himself wearing it, but he was cautious of giving in too much to that part of him. He was afraid that if he did, then somehow he would lose something he’d never be able to get back.

  “Okay,” he said at last, his heart beating faster. “I guess.”

  Lettie beamed. “I’m gonna get my hairbrush!”

  She vanished back inside, and Wyatt could hear her pounding up the steps. He sighed and stared out at the garden. From the front driveway, the garden dipped down a slight hill. There was a pond
at the bottom of it—Dad and Justin liked to argue over whether it was a large pond or a tiny lake—full of ducks. The ducks weren’t pets exactly, but they sure weren’t shy around people. They also weren’t shy around the horses and often tried to sneak into the stable to steal grain. Wyatt had seen Sarah, the stable manager, chasing them out with a rake plenty of times before.

  Wyatt watched a few of the ducks ganging up to charge Lettie’s Chihuahua, who fled with its tiny tail between its legs. A blue scrub jay fluttered down to the edge of the pond to drink. The afternoon sun painted everything golden.

  Wyatt closed his eye briefly and thought of Izzy. Thought of how their glances had caught a few times at dinner last night, and if that had meant anything or if he was just overthinking it as usual. It didn’t even matter if it had meant something, if Wyatt’s attraction wasn’t all one-sided, because he couldn’t. Not with someone like Izzy, even if he loved bakeries and talked about the smell of fresh bread like it was a religious experience.

  He tugged at the hem of his shirt. It was a nice shirt. It was just a slim-fitting Henley in powder blue, with the sleeves cut a little shorter than on a regular guy’s shirt. Wyatt liked to wear it with the top two buttons unfastened. It wasn’t a feminine shirt, but it wasn’t masculine either. It was in-between enough for Wyatt to like wearing on his not-boy days, when he didn’t feel confident enough to wear something that was obviously made for a woman. He was also wearing lip gloss today, and a little bit of eyeliner. It was enough to ease that deep sense of need in him on days like this, without giving over to it entirely.

  Lettie was back within minutes, clutching her hairbrush and a few hair elastics. “Okay, shove down to the bottom step, and hold my phone for me so I can see the instructions.”

  Wyatt shifted down, and Lettie sat behind him, her legs bracketing him in. He closed his eyes as she undid his messy bun and tensed in anticipation of the brush pulling roughly through his hair. Lettie was surprisingly gentle though, and Wyatt found himself relaxing more and more with every stroke.