“Yeah, she texted me about it yesterday. I’m going to add it to the digital flyers and the site we made, and then you all will be good to launch and advertise,” she responded. “I think you’ll get a pretty good turnout.”
“If it goes well, I think it might be something we do every other year.”
“That’s a good idea. Doing one every year might get a bit tiring.” She turned on the stove. “How’s the bike coming?”
“I should have it finished in a couple of weeks.”
She turned to look at him. “Do you have pictures of it?”
“I do, but they won’t do it justice since it isn’t finished. I can take you to see it next weekend.”
“Okay.” She turned back to the stove. “It’s supposed to be warmer then, too, if you’re still up for taking me for a ride.”
“We can do that.” It would be the first week of March, and the highs would reach around seventy degrees, as opposed to the fifty-five degrees February had been giving them.
The conversation continued as she cooked, and if it tasted as good as it smelled, he’d have to figure out how to get her to cook for him again.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Eri placed her fork on the plate and pushed it away after taking her last bite. She picked up her glass of juice, leaning back in her chair. They’d spent dinner catching up on things they probably would have already known if she hadn’t been putting some distance between them.
If he’d noticed, which she’d been pretty sure he had, she’d expected him to call her out on it at some point. However, she hadn’t thought that he’d show up at her house to do so. That had sent the butterflies in her stomach into overdrive. That is, after her stomach had sunk when he’d told her to tell him to leave if she didn’t want to see him. Eri wanted to see him, but it had all felt like so much.
She’d been aware she could have talked to him about it, but she wasn’t sure how much she should divulge. She wasn’t ready to let him in on the entire situation. The thought of doing that still scared her. But she owed him an explanation, and Eri figured there was no better one than the truth.
He’d taken a day that she’d thought had been tarnished for the rest of her life and breathed life back into it, giving her new memories to push that dark one to the back burner. The effort he’d gone through, the thoughtfulness of it all, had overwhelmed her because they were barely dating, and he had gone out of his way.
Processing that had proven tougher than she’d thought. When she’d gone to her session with her therapist yesterday, Cherell had not pushed but had told her that if she kept hiding, eventually, she’d be stuck in that space, unable to get out.
Eri didn’t want that. She’d allowed herself to stay closed off for a year after her assault, and while things were currently easier, she knew people could regress during stressful times andfall back into depressive states. She wanted to move forward, not backward, but she knew it would be a slow process and take her a little more time.
“Your birthday is in a couple of weeks, right?” she asked. If she remembered correctly from a passing conversation, it was in the middle of March. Do you have big plans?”
“Nah. I’ll have a little gathering at the house. Food, drinks, games. Nothing major.”
“If you let me know what day and time you want to have it, I’ll make you an e-invite,” she volunteered.
“So you can have something to add to your portfolio,” he teased.
She glared at him playfully. “No, because I want to.”
He chuckled. “I’ll let you know in a couple of days.” Eri stood, gathering their plates, only for him to take them away from her. “I’ve got it,” he told her.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to help; you’re my guest.”
“Oh, you thought I was going to let you do them. That’s cute.”
“Elias—”
“Sit down, Amate. I’ve got it.”
Eri knew she wasn’t going to talk him out of it. Instead of trying, she said, “We’ll get finished faster if we do them together. Besides, you don’t know where anything goes.”
“I watched you pull everything out. I know exactly where it goes.”
“Elias,” she whined, because why was it so hard to get this man tolether wash dishes in her own house?
He paused on his way to the sink. “Don’t whine like that, Amate, or I’m going to think you’re asking me for something else.”
