My throat goes dry and tight, and I clear it before speaking. “Since both of us are ending the day on a positive note, why don’t we focus on that.”
She offers a warm smile. “That’s why I wore this.” She pulls at the jersey. “I feel like a champion. This is my first experience at going viral.”
“I’ll put the champagne in the fridge and go change out of my suit.”
“In the meantime, I’ll put the freesias in a vase. The homemadecon amorespaghetti and meatball sauce is ready.” She turns to the stove and her hands go into a ta-da! gesture.
That’s so Harley.
“The garlic bread is easy peasy. I already took care of the appetizer—Caprese salad. I even got a couple slices of the dessert of the day at Number 22. You can’t celebrate without cake. It’s going to bedee-licious.”
Her lightheartedness is back in full force.
“Thanks for cooking this incredible meal, Harley,” I say.
She beams. “You liked?”
I nod. “I had two portions.”
Her smile takes over her face.
I tap the side of my dessert plate with my fork. “Good job on insisting we have cake. The pastry chef outdid herself with this caramel cake,” I say sliding the last bite into my mouth.
“Had I known this would be this lip-smacking, I would’ve grabbed more than two slices.”
“I’m sure I can talk her into making a cake just for you.”
“It’s good to know the boss.”
I nod.
“Speaking of you being the boss, should we try the new test flavors you brought from the brewery?”
“Let’s do it a little later. I’d prefer to have a clean pallet to appreciate the beer. Between the caramel and the champagne, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“Okay. I’m eager to try out blueberry craft beer for the first time.”
“Wait until you try the citrus or blood orange ale. You’ll be a convert.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” She smiles. “I agreed with your suggestion not to mix business with pleasure, but now that we’ve enjoyed my world-famous spaghetti and meatballs, guzzleddown champagne, and we’re all sugared up, I want to hear all about your meeting with Hoppy Joe.”
I stand. “First, more champagne is in order.”
She claps. “I love the way you think.”
I return with the bottle, top up her glass, and then mine. After placing the champagne in the refrigerator, I return to my seat, pausing for the briefest moment to admire the bouquet of flowers I bought her, taking center stage on the kitchen island.
I sigh.
Pushing my conflicting feelings away, I slide into my seat.
Harley lifts her glass. “Here’s to us sticking it to your ex.”
I lift my glass.
We each take a sip of our champagne.
“I’m all ears,” Harley says.
