In the dim light of my kitchen, J.J. and I ate our s'mores standing in front of the sink, holding little plates beneath our chins to catch the crumbs.
When we were done, I insisted on washing the last few dishes while he put the chicken and vegetables into containers. Five of them.
He'd made enough food for a full week of dinners. Just because he wanted to make sure I had a healthy meal to eat even when I was too tired to cook.
Once everything was clean, he put the containers in my fridge and said, "I don't know how well they'll freeze, but you could probably stick'em in there if you don't eat them all this week."
"Thanks," I said. I hesitated too long in saying anything else though because he headed toward his shoes.
"Are you leaving?" I asked.
He stopped in the process of sliding his feet into his sneakers. "I figured you'd be heading to bed soon."
I shrugged. "I usually watch a little TV before bed." I glanced at the clock. Nine-forty-five. "You're welcome to join me if you don't have to head home."
He didn't say anything, just used his foot to shove his shoes back toward the wall, which made me smile.
He followed me into the tiny living room off the kitchen and plopped down in the middle of my small couch while I turned on the lamp and looked for the remote.
"I don't have cable," I admitted. "Just a few streaming channels. There's no use paying the bill when I'm barely home to watch."
"Sounds like a smart move," he commented, propping his feet up on my coffee table.
If I'd had nice furniture, I probably would have told him not to do that, but it was a scratched, chipped garage sale find, so I really didn't mind if he put his sock-clad feet on it.
Once I found the remote, I had no choice but to sit right beside J.J., which meant I was practically glued to his side because the worn cushions were sunken in the middle.
I'd barely settled in when he took the remote from me and started clicking through the menu so rapidly that I was a little dizzy.
"What do you like to watch?" he asked.
"Anything but golf. It puts me to sleep."
J.J. chuckled and put his right arm around me, using his left to navigate my streaming channels. "How about something funny?"
"Sounds good," I answered, trying to hide my sudden yawn.
If he noticed, he didn't say anything, but I did rest my head on his shoulder because in this position I had to crane it to the side to avoid bumping into the joint anyway.
J.J. slouched deeper into the couch, which meant I could rest the back of my head against his shoulder and still see the screen.
Finally, he laughed and clicked on a series I hadn't watched before. "I think you'll like this one. And the episodes are an hour each, so you can get to bed before it's too late."
As I settled deeper into his body and watched the opening credits roll across the screen, I thought that I wouldn't mind doing this every night.
8
J.J. and I were both busy the rest of the week, so there were no more quiet dinners together, but he did call or text me every day.
Every. Single. Day.
I honestly didn't know how I felt about it because my moods were all over the place. I was beginning to understand why my oldest brother said he dreaded my mother's pregnancies once he was old enough to understand that the thing growing in Mommy's belly was what made her completely unhinged.
When he'd said it several years ago during his wife's first pregnancy, I'd blown him off.
But now I understood.
One minute, I thought J.J. was the sweetest man alive for making me dinners and calling or texting to check on me every day. I loved the thoughtful gifts he sent and I hated that I couldn't see him.
