“Special occasion?” Maybe she’s going out with her sister, maybe her family has something and it’s toochaotic for Rora, and she just wants Rora to be somewhere safe.
I can handle that.
“Just a little date, no big deal.” She bites her lips with nerves and walks to the kitchen on her bare feet. “Rora, look who’s here.”
“Derek!” I brace myself for impact as the little blonde girl leaps into my arms. She’s going to be a ballerina someday with moves like that. “You came to play with me!”
And just like that, any anger, confusion, frustration, or disappointment I feel melts away. “Of course I did. Been looking forward to it!”
“Yay!” She wiggles to get down, and I let her, smiling as she latches onto my hand and drags me to the table that’s still covered in her art supplies. The apartment is small, so it makes good sense that Birdie lets her use the kitchen for her arts and crafts.
I turn to see Birdie staring at us, a wide smile on her face. There’s a delicious smell coming from the oven, and I crinkle my eyebrows. “Are you cooking for us?”
I didn’t come with a pizza tonight, I was planning on just ordering something in.
Birdie shrugs, her go-to move, and sends me a smile that I reciprocate because I can’t help myself. “I just thought itwould be nice, since you offered to help so last minute, and I’m very glad you could come.”
Sweet. So damn sweet. I nearly crack a tooth from grinding my teeth together.
I turn my attention back to Rora so that Birdie can’t see my expression. “That’s great. It smells phenomenal.”
“Thanks!” she says brightly from behind my head, completely oblivious to the warring that’s going on within it. I’m dying to just blurt it out, right then and there, to tell her that I’m falling for her. That I don’t want her to go on another date, that she is the only freaking thought that was constantly circling in my head.
But I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t focus on anything.
Rora distracts me when she flips a whole tube of glue over and starts squeezing like her life depends on it. Her little grunting from exertion makes me chuckle, and I calmly take it from her. “You got some glue covering the end. It’s making that way harder than you need.”
She watches as I peel the glue off, smiling brightly when I hand it back to her, and she starts to apply a pipe cleaner to a piece of paper with the glue. She’s so focused, and I’m focused on her, that I don’t realize the whole kitchen has gone quiet.
When I turn back, I see Birdie slicing bread on the counter, smiling softly to herself. She must be excited about this date of hers, and I can’t fault her for that.
So what if we had crushed on each other when we were kids? So what if I’ve spent every moment this past week thinking about her, about what I would like to do if I had the free will to do it? So what if I’m pretty sure she’s the one for me?
She doesn’t know any of that, because I’m a fucking moron who never told her.
I look over at her and watch for a moment, her attention is so focused that she doesn’t see me watching her. Her fingers deftly cut the bread, she easily throws back a shoulder, and her long hair moves out of her way. Just watching her has a lump forming in my throat, so I clear it and say, “I can do that, you go ahead on your date.” The words taste like vinegar coming out, but it’s the right thing to say.
Birdie pauses and glances over at me. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, Rora and I have this,” I say, flashing her a confident grin. No use in making her think I can’t handle some garlic bread and a four-year-old.
That won’t get me very far.
My friends would balk if they saw me now, being a domestic with a woman who is going on another date. I’m being who I normally am, a very dependable friend.
And it is damn near killing me.
Birdie leaves the kitchen, and I stand, making sure Rora looks occupied for a few minutes while I finish slicing the bread, buttering it, and sliding it into the oven on the top rack. The bottom has a full-sized homemade lasagna.
Dammit. She can cook, like really cook, and this night just gets more and more crushing to my soul.
Heels click down the hallway, and I turn my head, my eyes eating up every inch of this woman as she walks toward me. She has some sort of brown wedge sandals on, and a cardigan now covers her shoulders.
She reaches for her purse, bending just enough that I tell myself to look away from her, but my eyes refuse to obey my command, and when she turns to look at me again, I’m positive she knows I was just checking her out.
“Okay, I have my phone, and you know where the emergency numbers are,” she says to me, smiling brightly. There’s a twinkle in her eye, something secretive about it that I don’t quite understand. “Rora, behave for Derek, okay? No fighting bedtime.”
“She would never, would you, Rora?” I finally say, giving Rora a goofy face.
