“I am, yeah.” Anna said as she accepted the plate that Brooke offered her.
“I’ll let you decide how much sauce to put on there,” Brooke said softly as she stepped out of the way.
Anna scoped several spoonfuls of sauce onto her plate and stepped back, waiting for Brooke to do the same.“I honestly cannot remember the last time someone cooked for me,” she said with a laugh.“Like obviously, other people cook if I go to a restaurant, but I mean like this. Just for me.”
Brooke’s heart thundered against her chest. She was happy and proud to have done something to set herself apart from anyone else who might be in Anna’s life, whatever their category—friendship, romance, family—Brooke was glad to have done something that clearly meant something to her.“It was my pleasure.” Brooke let out a nervous chuckle.“I just hope it’s decent.”
“Well if your sauce is any indication,” Anna countered, following Brooke to her small dining area.
Brooke had set the table with silverware and wine glasses. Anna had texted her earlier in the day saying that she would bring some wine over to go with their dinner.
“What side do you sit at?” Anna asked as they approached Brooke’s small round table.“Well, not side. It’s a circle, but like where do you sit?”
“What makes you think I sit in the same spot every time?” Brooke asked, genuinely curious. She most definitely did have a side—or seat—rather.
Anna seemed to study Brooke with a playful, teasing expression.“Hmmm, I bet I can guess which seat is yours,” she said instead, ignoring Brooke’s question.
“You have a fifty- fifty shot of being correct based off of the empty wine glasses,” Brooke teased back.“I’d hardly say that makes you a Holmes.”
Anna laughed.“Would I impress you more if I tell you why I know which seat is yours?”
Brooke was genuinely curious. HowwouldAnna know which seat she sat at on a regular basis?“Well then?”
“You sit at this seat,” Anna said confidently, nodding at the chair that Brooke did indeed sit at every time.
She hummed, not confirming Anna’s very correct assumption.“Your evidence, detective?”
“My innate reaction was that it would be this chair because you very much, what with your four black belts, strike me as someone with John Wayne syndrome,” Anna started.
Brooke frowned. Marion Robert Morrison, also known as John Wayne, was not exactly someone Brooke would like to be compared to.“And what, if I might ask, is John Wayne Syndrome? Being a racist, sexist, asshat?”
Anna threw her head back in a laugh.“No, Honey.” She laughed a bit more.“I don’t think you’re any of those things. That’s someone who refuses to sit with their back to a door. Something about not wanting to get shot in the back while playing poker.”
“Should that be Hickok Syndrome, then?” Brooke asked thoughtfully.
Anna tilted her head to the side clearly wanting more information.
“Wild Bill Hickok is who was shot in the back whilst playing poker in Deadwood,” Brooke said casually, like the average person just carried around obscure American History trivia nuggets like that. Brooke swallowed uncomfortably. She knew her fun facts were not fun for most people and correcting Anna for something as silly as which cowboy or actor would or wouldn’t sit with his back to the door was unbecoming.“Sorry, it doesn’t matter. I appear as the type of person who won’t sit with their back to the door, is the point.”
Anna smiled softly at her and sat her plate down across from where they both knew Brooke always sat. She rounded the table and pointed at Brooke’s chair leg.“Also, you bounce your right foot. You did it at dinner last night and you do it every Monday. You clearly do it here, too.”
Brooke’s eyes widened. Sure enough, there was a small patch of white paint that had been chipped away from the leg of the chair, leaving the tan, unfinished wood exposed. Her mother had always fussed at her for fidgeting. It wasn’t proper to fidget. She had spent most of her life afraid of it, worried she’d make her mother angry, or worse, her father. He had only ever bothered to interact with Brooke when her mother was so mad, she told him to say something. Brooke forced those thoughts and emotions back down deep and buried where they belonged.
“Well, Darling,” she said with ease.“Maybe you are a Holmes after all.”
Anna looked pleased.“Thank you,” she said, slipping her hands into her sweatpants packets and swaying back and forth.“I’ll grab the wine.” She headed back towards the front door, but stopped suddenly.“But, hey B?”
“Hmm?” Brooke asked, looking up from examining the chair leg.
“Thank you for telling me about Wild Bill Hickok. I didn’t learn much in the way of Wild West History, so all I really know about it is from old movies. Hollywood was never really known for their accuracy, you know?” She ginned at Brooke softly before going to grab the wine she had brought to go with their dinner.
Dinner was a success. Whether Anna enjoyed it as much as she proclaimed she did, was still out with the jury, but it had clearly meant something to her. And Brooke was more than a little proud of herself about that. Anna had even taken a few photos of the spread despite Brooke’s initial protesting over her inability to properly plate a dish. Conversation was coming easier to Brooke as well. As the night wore on, her brain had finally stopped screaming:holy shit Anna Fourchette is in your apartment,and she had been able to carry on lighthearted conversation about their respective jobs. Anna told her all about her favorite employee, Maddie, who was more of a friend and a partner than anything else at this point. Maddie was why Anna was so confident that she could leave her restaurant for almost an entire week and not worry about anything while she was away. Maddie also was why Anna was able to take Tuesdays and Wednesdays off every week and, according to Anna, why she didn’t have weekly meltdowns over anything from being overwhelmed with the responsibility of fourteen people’s salaries all the way to meltdowns over forgetting to order bell peppers and having to make menu adjustments at the last minute.
“She sounds lovely,” Brooke said, genuinely meaning it. Maddie sounded like a wonderful person on all fronts. She was glad that Anna had her.
Anna nodded.“I would have introduced you ages ago, but she has Sunday and Monday off.”
Brooke’s mouth went dry. Why would Anna have introduced them ages ago? They’d only been… whatever it was that they were for the past three days.
