“I could take the twins with me,” I said.
“To the farmers’ market.”
I smiled. “Better than to a wrestling match.”
He didn’t laugh. “Why don’t you ask Hannah to watch them?”
“She’s in California, visiting James. Anyway, I can do it.”
Shouldn’t he be relieved? Why couldn’t he just saythank you? I was trying to be supportive here.
Oh.Oh. I covered my mouth with my hand. All those times he’d offered to help and I’d turned him down... I’d never realized how it felt from this side. His side. Not good. “Please, John,” I said. “Let me do this for you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “If that’s what you really want.”
“I want us to be...”Together. Connected. The way we used to be. “Partners,” I said.
“Then... Thanks.” He met my eyes. “Partner.”
CHAPTER 15
Jo
You know, if you feed it,” Frank said on Friday morning, “you’ll never get rid of it. You’re only encouraging it to stay.”
You and me both, cat.
I straightened from my crouch in the alley, scaring the skinny black cat into retreat under the shadow of the Dumpster. The midday sun barely penetrated between the buildings. A crust of salt caked the curb, and icy slush filled the potholes, but everything inside me was sunshine and rainbows. “Who says I want to get rid of it? Cats keep down the mice.”
“You’re such a hick,” Frank said.
“Please. Every bodega in the city has a cat. They chase the rats out of the snack aisles.”
Truth. But I would have fed the cat anyway. Spreading the joy, right? Sharing the love.
My face flushed despite the cold. Not that this was love. Exactly. Yet.
I hugged my arms around my waist. If it were love, wouldn’t I know? The way Meg had, the first time she met John.“Love at first sight,”she had claimed, and I’d rolled my eyes. My feelings for Eric had come onmore gradually, respect and infatuation mixed with a healthy dose of lust. And trust. All I knew was I’d never felt this way before, never been able to feel for Trey the things he claimed to feel for me. Not that I didn’t love Trey, in my own way. I certainly never wanted to hurt him. But I’d never been able to hear him say those three words without feeling panicky. Or suffocated. Or sorry. I sure as hell had never felt tempted to say them back.
“Whatever.” Frank exhaled a stream of smoke. “Boss wants to see you when you clock in.”
“Ray?”
“Chef.”
My heart bumped pleasantly. “He’s here?”
Frank pitched away his cigarette. “Just said so, didn’t I?”
I was surprised. Eric had left my place around dawn. More convenient for me, since I needed to be at work before he did. I’d been busting my ass all week, determined to pull my weight in the kitchen. With Frank back on the line and the weekend looming, I had a ton of prep to do.
Maybe, I thought, he wanted to talk about the cookbook.
He hadn’t mentioned it again. But the idea had stuck with me, like the smell of the kitchen that clung to my hair, sinking into my skin, gradually becoming part of me. I walked around with it for days. It rode with me on the subway and followed me to work.“You are a writer. Maybe you should write my cookbook.”
I tugged on the back door, releasing a gust of fat and garlic into the alley.
We needed to talk. This weekend, away from the restaurant. I didn’t even question anymore that we would spend Eric’s day off together.
