Chapter 120: Let Me Drive

Time rushed by, and before any of them realized it, it was already five in the evening. The day’s work was finally done, and the three of them left Vincent’s office together, heading toward the private elevator.

They stepped inside, and the doors closed behind them, cutting them off from the rest of the floor.

When the elevator finally opened again, they stepped out, and the moment they appeared, the murmurs began around them, but none of the three paid them any attention.

Whatever people were saying, they had no interest in listening.

They made their way through the building before emerging outside.

By the time they reached the car, Kyle was already there, waiting to drive them.

Vincent, however, told him to go back.

Kyle left without a word, leaving Vincent to take the driver’s seat.

He opened the passenger door for Bryce, while Dave, who was sitting in the back seat, opened the rear door for him at the same time.

Bryce stopped beside the car, completely frozen, he had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to sit.

The situation was made even more ridiculous by the fact that both men seemed to have reached their own conclusions about where he should be without saying a word.

Then, almost simultaneously, Vincent released the passenger door and Dave released the rear door.

Both doors swung shut on their own.

Bryce remained standing there, staring at the car as though the two men had just silently decided to leave the choice entirely up to him.

Bryce finally moved and hesitantly settled into the passenger seat. As he fastened his seat belt, he kept his attention on Dave, watching him closely as though waiting to see whether there would be any reaction to his choice.

But there was none.

"But I’m really hungry," Bryce muttered after they had been driving for several minutes in silence.

Bryce’s hunger was genuine, but his words had another purpose too.

The atmosphere had suddenly become uncomfortable, and he wanted something, anything, to break the silence that had fallen over the three of them.

"You refused to eat lunch," Vincent said.

"And you didn’t even have breakfast either," Dave added.

"You didn’t have breakfast in the morning?" The car swayed briefly before Vincent corrected it and brought it back under control. A moment later, he pulled over beside the road and stopped.

"You want to tell me you’ve eaten nothing since yesterday morning, when you barely ate anything in the first place?" he asked incredulously.

"The only reason I refused to eat earlier is because I was feeling nauseous. I told you."

"Come on, Bryce. You need to try. Remember the baby. It needs that food for so many reasons, and you need it too," Vincent said, almost pleading with him.

Guilt settled over Bryce almost immediately as he thought about the baby.

He might not have felt hungry at any point, but he knew he was carrying their baby, and for that reason, he needed to eat. Not simply eat, but eat properly.

"What would you like to eat now?" Vincent asked.

"Homemade food."

The words left Bryce’s mouth before he had fully thought them through.

He knew Dave could not cook. The kitchen was practically his worst place in the house, and Bryce had no doubt Vincent was probably no different. Still, he insisted.

He wanted them to cook for him.

They would have to learn eventually. They could not keep ordering food every day for the rest of their lives.

Bryce was not particularly good at cooking himself, but he was willing to learn too. What would happen when the baby was born? Would they still be ordering food for it every day?

"Okay, then I’ll just... We’ll..." Vincent stammered, already struggling with the request. "We’ll buy groceries and have someone cook at home."

"What? No." Bryce refused immediately. "I don’t want food cooked by other people. It will still feel like it’s not homemade. I want you to cook, food cooked at home by you."

He looked at both Vincent and Dave.

Vincent stared back at him, completely speechless.

"The baby, not me," Bryce added, trying to explain himself. "It makes me feel like that’s the only food I can eat without feeling nauseous."

"Okay, then," Vincent answered.

He started the car again, but before pulling back onto the road, he glanced at Dave as though trying to communicate something without saying it aloud.

Bryce caught the look.

Vincent was clearly hoping Dave could cook.

"Dave, can you cook?" Vincent finally asked, unable to remain quiet as his own anxiety about the cooking situation grew.

"Yeah."

The answer made Bryce turn toward Dave completely, his surprise impossible to hide.

"That makes the two of us," Vincent said.

A smile spread across his face, and the tension that had gathered in his expression eased almost instantly.

That smile seemed to touch something inside Dave.

He looked satisfied by Vincent’s reaction, as though he had only lied because he did not want Vincent to be disappointed that he could not cook either.

Bryce could hardly believe it.

Was that really the point Dave had reached?

All of that just to please Vincent?

A chuckle escaped Bryce before he could stop it, but he did not expose him.

Suddenly, Bryce’s phone vibrated.

He pulled it from his pants pocket and glanced at the screen, only to realize that the message was from Dave.

’Give me a heads-up about cooking. What do you actually want to eat, baby.’

Bryce almost laughed when he read it, but forced himself to keep his expression under control.

’Did you just lie to him right now just to please him? Are you that deeply into him?’

The response came quickly.

’No, that’s not it.’

Bryce rolled his eyes at Dave’s denial.

It did not take long before they arrived at a grocery store. Bryce had already downloaded a recipe, so the three of them followed it as they moved through the aisles, picking out everything they needed.

Once they had finished shopping, Vincent and Dave carried the bags out to the car while Bryce was allowed to walk freely, eating the apple they had insisted he eat after buying and washing it.

"I’m driving home," Bryce announced once they had finished loading everything into the car.

The other two immediately looked at him, clearly caught off guard by the announcement.

"No. You rest. I’ll drive," Dave said.

Bryce shook his head.

"I don’t want to rest. I want to drive."

"Bryce, you don’t have a driving license yet," Dave reminded him.

"But I can drive. You know I can drive. I drove my dad’s car every day. I even went to high school with it, remember? I carried you several times in it."

"You can’t drive without a license, and even if you had one, you shouldn’t tire yourself with it. Let Dave drive," Vincent said.

He opened the back door for Bryce, expecting him to get inside, but Bryce remained where he was.

"Dave, why don’t you say something? I drove you around so many times without it," Bryce insisted.

"Yeah, he can drive. Let him."

Dave’s answer came easily, but something about the way he said it immediately made Vincent suspicious.

Still, Vincent allowed Bryce to drive.

Bryce was visibly excited as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Dave took the passenger seat beside him. He had not worn his seat belt when Vincent was driving, but the moment he settled beside Bryce, he pulled it across himself.

Then he reached over, took Bryce’s belt, and fastened it for him.

Vincent said nothing.

He simply pulled his own seat belt across his chest and secured it before settling back.

The drive began.

_

By the time they finally arrived home, however, all three of them looked dizzy.

They were coughing as though they had just returned from a race, each of them trying to recover from the drive.

Dave lifted a hand and made the sign of the cross.

"Thank you, God, for another chance at life," he muttered.

Vincent laughed.

Bryce, on the other hand, was not amused.

His face twisted as he got out of the car and stormed toward the house.

They called after him, but he did not even turn around.

He marched straight to the entrance, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

The moment he crossed the threshold, however, he stopped dead.

He stood frozen in the doorway.

On the couch sat Agatha.