The Duplicate

Chapter Thirty-two

The plate and coffee mug are set down with two distinct clinks on the computer desk beside him, and Trip's glower flashes away from the tall window, to land on me.

"Here is your breakfast," I say. But then I look out at the blue sky and the tufts of clouds, examining the position of the sun's rays through the window. "Actually it's more like brunch now."

"I said I wasn't hungry."

"I know what you said. But Aubrey didn't buy it. She told me to bring you a plate and another cup of coffee—" I arch an eyebrow "—since you didn't finish your last."

Trip breathes an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes back towards the window.

Like a stubborn mule he refused to go anywhere near the dining room when Aubrey called us for breakfast. He cooped himself up in this office, no matter how much I tried to convince him he was being extremely rude—again. He even gave me his warning glare.

He wasn't hungry.

Aubrey didn't believe it, and she could tell I didn't believe it, even as I relayed the message over the dinning room table. Nope, he wasn't coming out. Nope, he wasn't hungry. All the same, she insisted on being hospitable to her stubborn-ass guest. After breakfast, she sent me in here with what I think she hoped was a peace offering. Even though, it was Trip who smashed Aubrey's coffee mug.

He should be the one seeking peace. The jerk.

After a moment of narrowing my eyes at Trip's back, drumming my nails over the wood of the desk, taptaptaptap-taptaptaptap, the defiant set of his shoulders lets up a few degrees. He turns his head towards the never-ending voices and babble and shrieks teeming through the house. And his gaze finally, reluctantly settles on the plate.

"What are those?" he mutters.

"What is what?"

He takes a step towards the plate, picks up the fork, and shoves the food around. "These."

"Scrambled eggs?"

"What?" His eyes meet mine. He honestly doesn't understand.

Bursting out a chuckle, Dax halts at the end of the couch, arms full and face half hidden with the towering stack of sheets and comforters Aubrey gave him. "You've got to be kidding me, Triple. You know how to hot-wire a car, but you don't know what eggs are?"

"I know," Trip growls, twisting around and shooting a icy look across the room, "what eggs are." Dax drops the sheets and comforters on the couch and pretends to be very interested going through them. Trip glowers at me again. "I haven't seen them like this."

"They're scrambled," I say, doing my best to bite down a smile. "The yolk and whites are mixed up. And Aubrey added some cheddar cheese. They're good. Try them."

After a slight hesitation and another miffed look at Dax, he stabs a fluff of scrambled egg with his fork and pops it into his mouth.

Eyebrows raised, tilting my head to look up into his face, I watch him chew. "Yummy?"

He stabs another, pops it into his mouth, and drops his fork to reach for a triangle slice of toast.

I'm unable to keep the smirk from tugging my lips. "And you said you've never lied to me. I knew you were hungry."

"I haven't lied. I didn't lie," Trip says around a mouthful, shaking his head. "I just wasn't hungry enough to go into that hellhole of a room." He juts his chin toward the wall.

"You don't like the noise."

Without answering, he stops, listening. Noah is screaming his head off as if on cue.