“Sort of,” she says like she isn’t going to expand, but after I continue to stare at her, she adds, “I have to meet with a visualization coach and then I usually do a long run or swim on Saturdays. Sunday is my off day. What about you?”
“We had practice this morning and a game tomorrow so I’m taking it easy. Do you want to hang out later?”
She seems surprised by the offer.
“You can ask me the rest of your questions.”
“Sure. I’ll come by when I’m done.”
After I’ve paid and she’s gotten a box for her leftovers, we head out of the restaurant. My Range Rover is parked next to her Jeep. We stop at the back between the two.
“Today took a weird turn,” she says, smiling. “Well, even weirder than I thought possible.”
I huff, nodding my agreement.
“Thank you.”
“Me?” I feel like the last person she should be thanking.
“You didn’t have to agree to this, but I appreciate it. This…arrangement is benefiting me a lot more than you.” She glances down at the ground and bites the corner of her lip.
She’s wrong. So very wrong.
“Favorite food?” I ask Hannah, later that night. She’s curled up on the other end of my couch, facing me. Her hands wrap around my favorite blue mug.
“Pizza. No, tacos. Or maybe french fries. I can’t decide.”
“Got it. My wife is indecisive.”
“That’s never not going to be weird,” she says with a grimace. “What about you?”
“Barbecue ribs.” My stomach rumbles. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
We move to the kitchen. She leans back against the counter while I stare into the fridge and give her the options. It’s mostly prepacked food I order from a service. It’s easier that way,making sure I’m fueled for practice and games and not needing to cook.
“Do you have any bread?” she asks.
“Yeah. I think so.” I open the freezer drawer.
“You keep it in the freezer?”
I shrug.
She laughs it off but motions for me to hand it to her. Then she grabs the peanut butter and jelly.
“Really?” I ask when I realize what she’s creating.
She smiles shyly. I grab two plates, and she makes us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which we eat standing up in the kitchen.
“Would have been better if the bread wasn’t so hard,” I say as I chew the first bite. It’s unthawed slightly but it’s still a little crunchy.
“And cold.” She holds a hand in front of her mouth as she speaks. “The jelly is really good though. What flavor is it?”
“Huckleberry.”
“I should have known,” she says, then adds, “That muffin was delicious by the way. I don’t think I ever thanked you.”
