Nova remained silent as she searched for the right words. Finally, she said, “You and I are both used to having our own space. Our own way of doing things. We don’t really know each other that well yet.”
“If I need space, I’ll let you know,” he said. “But, in the last few weeks, I usually miss you when you’re not around. Like after work when I’m hanging in front of the TV or in the morning when I’m drinking my coffee. I think I’ll like having you here.” He waited a moment before he asked, “Do you think you’ll need your space?”
That was a tricky question. Nova liked people and made friends easily, but she did need alone time on a regular basis. Otherwise, she was exhausted.
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I’m not used to having someone around all the time and…” She trailed off. “It’s not that I think you’ll get on my nerves or anything, I just need time by myself every now and then or I get tense and tired.”
He nodded as if he understood rather than getting offended. “My mom is like that. My dad and Aunt Molly are huge extroverts, but Mom, she needs quiet time. She likes to read in silence, usually while the sun comes up.” Torin grinned. “Probably because Dad is a night owl and tends to sleep late. It’s the only alone time she can get because once he’s up.” Torin didn’t finish the sentence, only shook his head and carried the bowl of beaten eggs over to the stove.
He set it to the side, dropped a pat of butter in the hot pan, and added the mushrooms, onions, and garlic.
While that was sautéing, he walked over to his fridge and pulled out a jar filled with fresh herbs, their stems in the water. Setting it on the counter, he took out a couple of sprigs of dill and quickly chopped them up.
He then returned to the pan, stirred the contents for a few moments, and added the eggs.
Nova watched as he sprinkled the dill on top of the eggs and set to vigorously whisking.
“I thought you were making an omelet,” she said.
“I am, just not the American way.”
“There are different ways to make an omelet?” she asked.
“Watch and learn,” he said. “I haven’t studied at the Cordon Bleu, but I have studied the Essential Pepin on YouTube, and he called this the French way.”
Nova watched as he continued to whisk the eggs. When they began to set, he tapped the omelet into one side of the pan, while grabbing a silicone spatula to help fold the edges in. Actually, it looked almost as though he was rolling it.
When he was satisfied with the doneness, Torin carried the pan over to the plate he’d set on the counter, tapped it on the thick wooden cutting board a few times to loosen it from the pan, and then used the spatula to roll it over onto the plate.
It looked like a fat, fluffy egg pillow, dotted with bits of green herbs and mushrooms.
“That looks great,” Nova said.
“Thanks.”
Torin put the pan back on the stove, turned off the burner, and carried the eggs back to the fridge. When he emerged from the silver monstrosity, he held a container of diced cantaloupe in his hand.
“I found a Pecos cantaloupe at the farmer’s market a few days ago. Have you ever had one before?”
Nova shook her head.
He grinned. “You’re in for a treat. They’re sweet, almost like candy.”
Torin popped the lid to the container and set the open bowl next to the plate. He grabbed a knife and two forks from a drawer in the island before he cut the omelet in half.
Handing her a fork, he said, “Bon appétit.”
Nova took the fork. “Thanks.”
“Shit. The coffee.”
“I can get it,” Nova offered, starting to straighten from her position at the island.
“No, no, I’ll get it. You go sit on a stool and try my omelet.”
Instead of pointing out that he was being bossy again, Nova walked around the island and planted her butt on a stool. It wouldn’t do any good to argue because, despite the fact that he wasn’t as loud as his Aunt Molly, he was just as effective as a steamroller.
When he brought two cups of coffee over, hers light and sweet, his black, he frowned at her.
