“Well, that book or article you read it in, it was based on my life.”
“Is that right?” she says, laughing.
“Yeah, it’s a well known fact that these hands can work magic.”
“Are we still talking about fixing things up around the house?”
“Most definitely. A broken bed, a broken table, a torn shower curtain.”
“Oh my God! And who breaks those things?”
“It’s just wear and tear.”
“From what?”
“From . . . workouts.”
“In a shower?”
“The best cardio there is. You said it yourself. I need physical therapy.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Penelope says, laughing.
“You brought it up first.”
This is great. It’s actually going well. We’ve picked up right where we left off, with the same easy banter we had going at the hospital.
“I think we should focus on other activities first,” she says.
“No problem. How do you feel about hunting?”
“What are you kidding me? My father was really into hunting and fishing, and he would take me and my brothers with him. At first, he said I couldn’t go because that’s not what girls do, but then I threw a tantrum and he had no choice but to let me tag along.”
“You don’t give up easily.”
“Nope,” Penelope says. “And you don’t either, apparently. I still can’t believe you used your daughter to convince me to go out with you.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. I still can’t believe I’m doing this to be honest.”
“I’m glad you agreed. You won’t regret it,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road.
“I better not,” she says, after a beat or two.
“So where are we eating?”
“It’s this Caribbean restaurant. It doesn’t look like much from the outside—or the inside for that matter—but I swear this is some of the best food on the South Side. Do you like spicy food?”
“Um . . . sure,” I say, unconvincingly.
“Liar,” she says. I look at her and her face is lit up with an impish smile.
“I mean, if it’s crazy hot I might have a little trouble.”
“Oh, so you’re backpedaling now.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “You know, I can tell you grew up with brothers—you bust my balls as good as anyone at the fire house.”
