Liz:Then Ernesto took a carrot from the bag.
Finn:Ha! Poor Biff. Good comparison btw.
Liz:How are you feeling?
Finn:Better. Is there something wrong with the TV in your room?
I cringe.
Liz:I never watch TV so I cancelled cable. There are a few movies on the top shelf if you’re bored.
Finn:Perfect. Thank you again. I promise I’ll be out of your hair tonight.
Liz:It’s fine. I have to go. Please behave.
He responds with a smiley face and a thumbs-up. So help me, if one thing is out of place, I will clobber him.
The entire drive home, I’m thinking about what I’ll do when I get there. If he’s sleeping, I won’t wake him. I’ll just make some more soup and then maybe sit with him while he eats and we can talk. Emerson and Kel argue back and forth about whose music they should listen to. I said I didn’t care. Kel wants country and Emerson, heavy metal. Music is the last thing on my mind. My thoughts are occupied with a near naked Finn at home in my bed.
I sprint up the stairs to my apartment and pause to catch my breath before opening the door. The smell is the first thing I notice.
I close the door as the aroma hits me in waves. Finn is fully dressed, except for his suit jacket, and is stirring something on my stove. He turns to me and smiles.
“Hey. How was work?”
I place my bag by the door and fumble with his keys in my hand. “Okay. You’re feeling better?”
“Oh yeah. I’m great. I slept in and took some more of the Tylenol you left me. It must have been a twenty-four-hour thing.”
Stepping toward him, I wonder what he’s stirring. It doesn’t smell like soup. The timer on the stove beeps and he bends over to take some type of dish out of the oven.
“What’s going on?” I ask, confused, pointing toward the oven.
“I wanted to thank you for taking care of me, so I made you dinner.”
“With what?” I ask sarcastically. “I have no food.”
“I noticed that. No wonder you’re so tiny. What do you eat?”
I open my fridge and see it’s stocked. “Finn, what did you do?”
“I ordered from that delivery service thing at the store. I didn’t know what you like, so I got stuff I like.” He winks and stirs the pot on the stove. My mouth drops. I don’t know what to say.
“Anyway, I made lemon chicken. The pasta is almost done. You just have to drain it. He places the spoon down on the stove and turns off the heat. “I’d better get a move on.”
“Wait, you’re leaving?” I ask.
“I’m sure traffic is a bear and I need to get home. I have a report to finish for tomorrow.”
He lifts his coat from the chair at my table and puts it on.
“You’re not going to eat?” I ask, pointing toward the food. “This is enough for an army.”
“Nah, I’m good. My stomach is still a bit off so I think I’ll stick to soup for now.”
Reaching for my purse I ask, “What do I owe you?”
His hand touches mine to stop me. “You’re kidding me, right?”
