That grabs her roommate’s attention. “Oh yeah?”
I nod. “She’s bossy about knife skills. I’m mostly prep guy, but I cook for myself when I’m home.”
“How many siblings do you have?”
“Sloane!”
“What? I want to know if he’s a family man.”
“Oh my God.”
“My sister is the youngest of five. The rest of us are smelly boys. I’m right in the middle. I like being from a big family, if that answers your question.”
Sloane tips back her bottle and shrugs.
I change the subject. As much as they want dirt on me, I want to know more about my bride, but the first step there is to get her roommates talking about themselves. “And you’re all doing different specialties? I know Francesca is doing Emergency Medicine.”
“I’m going into pediatrics,” Liz says. “I love kids. “
“I’m doing cardiology,” Sloane offers.
“Following in her daddy’s footsteps,” Liz says, then hastens to add, “which is smart.”
“I’m in the same field as my dad, too. There are lots of advantages there, but you have to hoe your own path in the end.”
“Nepo baby fist bump,” Sloane says gleefully, holding out her hand.
I knock my knuckles against hers.
Francesca rolls her eyes, then puts a lid on the pot. “Will you be okay with the inquisition for a few minutes. I want to go get changed while this cooks.”
“Sure.” I watch her disappear down the hallway, blonde ponytail swishing hypnotically, then turn back to her friends. “What else do you want to know?”
She returns, showered and changed into very touchable sweatpants and a t-shirt, just as the pasta is ready to eat.
I jump up and help her serve us each a bowl, topped with an impressive amount of freshly grated parmesan.
And when she sits down, I take the chair right next to hers, so our arms brush and I can watch her blonde waves curl a bit as they dry. Hear the pleased little noises she makes as she eats her dinner, and feel the vibes rolling off her as I navigate the conversation.
Thankfully, the vibes are good.
The conversation flows easily. They compare stories from work today. Since I can’t talk about my job in detail, I share how traffic was on the way from the airport, and that’s a good segue for steering the conversation to preferred neighbourhoods to live in for a resident working at their hospital.
“I’ll probably live in this house for the next fifteen years,” Sloane says. “The location can’t be beat, unless I want to live right next door to my parents, which is—I mean, I love my parents, but that’s a little too close, you know?”
“My oldest brother does live a few blocks from my parents, and yes, I know. It’s too close.” I pause. “But sometimes I live in their basement, so…”
Francesca wrinkles her nose at me. “Do you?”
“I’m not perfect.” I wink at her. “I have a cabin north of Duluth, but owning my own place in Minneapolis when I’m only there for a few weeks every summer feels like overkill.”
“Fair.”
“Didn’t you live in Minneapolis for a year or two?” Liz asks Francesca.
She takes a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s a small world.”
I bump my elbow against hers. “Did you like it?”
