I wait for more. For him to ask if he can come over, if we can talk, if I've forgiven him yet. For the catch, because there's always a catch.
Nothing.
I stare at my phone for a full minute before I accept that he's really not going to push.
Thank you, I type finally.
You're welcome.
And that's it.
I put the gelato in the freezer, the cheese in the fridge, the wine on the counter next to the sunflowers. Then I go back to grading essays about dragon veterinarians and try not to think about what any of this means.
I fail.
When Robin gets home two hours later, he stops dead in the kitchen doorway.
"What is this?"
"Knox dropped off groceries."
"Knox." Robin walks slowly into the kitchen, like he's approaching a crime scene. He picks up one of the wine bottles, and his eyes go wide. "Toby, this is a ninety-dollar bottle of wine."
"I know."
"And this cheese—" He picks up the wedge wrapped in paper, reads the label. "This is from that place. The cave place. I've been wanting to try this for months."
"I know."
"And these crackers are my favorite."
"I know."
Robin sets everything down and turns to look at me. "He remembered all this from one dinner?"
"Apparently."
"And he just... dropped it off? Didn't try to come in?"
"He was gone before I even got the bags inside."
Robin is quiet for a moment, processing. I can see him trying to hold onto his anger, trying to remember that Knox is the enemy, that Knox hurt me. But it's hard to hate someone who drops off your favorite crackers and doesn't ask for anything in return.
"The sunflowers," Robin says slowly. "Those are your favorite."
"I know."
"And he remembered."
"And he remembered."
We stay there—me on the couch, Robin in the kitchen—staring at each other across the fancy groceries and the bright yellow flowers.
"Horror movie and charcuterie?" Robin finally suggests.
I smirk. "Obviously."
We spend the next hour building the most elaborate snack spread of our lives. Robin arranges the cheese and salami on our nicest cutting board, the one we got as a housewarming gift and never use. I open the crackers, the olives, the fig jam. We argue about which wine to open first and eventually decide to open both because we're adults and we can do what we want.
