“You might need to roll the pants at the waist a few times,” I say. “Do whatever you want with them.”
“Thanks,” she says, pushing a few strands of loose hair out of her face.
I glance around the room, mostly so that I don’t keep staring at her. Because this is a woman on ajourney, and although I thoroughly enjoyed getting a peek behind the curtain in that holding cell, this feels different. “Need anything else?”
She swallows. “I might come get some water.”
My lips twitch at this, not because she wants water but because she’s not asking permission. “Mi casa es su casaand all that,” I say, waving a sweeping hand. “Help yourself.”
She nods and then jerks her chin at the door. “Can I change first?”
I slip out of the room and close the door behind me. Then I head downstairs, around several piles of boxes, and into the kitchen, where I pull down a glass for her to use. It’s not dusty, but I make sure anyway, holding it up to the light. After that I return to the study and grab the bundle of letters my grandparents sent each other. Aurora has had a bad evening, and I bet she’d like to hear the rest of these notes, as much as she says otherwise.
But I stutter to a halt in the kitchen when I find myself inspecting the glass again to make sure it’s clean.
I’m being ridiculous. I know I am.
So I force myself to put the glass down on the counter, and I toss the letters down too. Then I make myself start working on the kitchen boxes shoved in one corner over by the table. It’s what I would have been doing this evening anyway, probably tucked around a visit to Denice. I’ve been avoiding the box with my nonperishable pantry items, not because the task will be hard but because it will be tedious, and I’m lazy.
To remind my brain who’s boss here, I tear that box open now.
So what if I’m intrigued by a woman? That doesn’t mean I have to go and fall in love with her or dust her glass off twenty times or come up with things she might enjoy. She can come and go in my life however I choose.
I nod to myself, feeling heartened by these reminders, and then lift the box from the floor to put it on the kitchen table.
Except I trip over my own feet, and instead of settling with a nice thump on the wooden surface, the whole box tumbles out of my arms, crashing to the floor and sending the contents flying.
A bag of spaghetti splayed in front of me. Spice jars rolling under the table. Boxes of instant oatmeal and tubs of peanut butter and a container of multivitamins I haven’t been taking like I should.
A swear slips through my lips as my body sags. I grab the almost-empty box and more or less toss it onto the tabletop; then I crouch down and begin picking things up.
I’ve just wrangled the loose spaghetti back in its bag when I hear a shuffling sound. I stand up automatically, and then I turn around to see Aurora padding softly into the kitchen, draped in my clothes. The t-shirt fits her distractingly well, better than I expected, and despite the bunched-up sweats with the rolled waist, I still can’t tear my eyes away.
I…like that sight. I like it alot.
But come on—a woman who makes me laugh, who keeps me on my toes, and she’s beautiful, and now she’s wearing my clothes? What man wouldn’t find that enjoyable?
I clear my throat and look away, inhaling deeply to cool the warmth trying to rise in my cheeks. “Ready for a break?” I say, my voice too loud.
“I guess.”
I point to the glass waiting for her on the counter. “Have some water,” I say. “Dig through the fridge too, if you want. I don’t care.” I pause for just a second, debating, and then makeup my mind. “And in the meantime…” I nod to the bundle of letters next to the empty glass. “We’ll read the next installment of the epic love story between my grandparents. Sound good?”
Her slight smile is answer enough.
ROMAN
Aurora fillsher glass with water while I move the fallen pantry items out of the way. I look up to find her staring at me blankly, however, and I sigh.
“I dropped the box,” I say, gesturing to the cardboard box on the table. “I’ll get it later.” Then I point at the letters. “Ready?”
She takes a drink and nods. “I’m ready.”
“And you’re not going to interrupt this time? Because that was rude last time, and I expect better from you going forward?—”
“Just read,” she cuts me off with a snort, and I grin, standing up and moving to the counter.
“So impatient.” I pick up the little bundle and shuffle past the first envelope, the one I’ve already opened, moving on to the second instead. This one too has two letters inside; I slip themboth out gently and open them. Then I clear my throat and adopt the high-pitched female voice.
