“Oh, Little Phoebe is a monster, and about ninety-nine percent of these are toxic to her. All my plants have been relocated while they’re here. Every time I try to bring one inside, she eats it, then throws it back up.”
“This is quite the collection. You should have a greenhouse, but there is one thing missing.”
Bev picked up a wilted purple orchid and set it behind two prayer-plants that were thriving in the sun.
“I’m going to see if topiaries are toxic and then bring you a few. Oh! You could do bonsai plants as well. Nothing gets you over a bad day like shaping a bonsai tree to look like a labia.”
I snort-laughed and stared at Bev, who had her hands on her hips like it was every day she talked about labia’s and dicks.
“I’d love one, thank you.”
“Of course, let’s go inside. And just so you know, I honestly thought you would both be at work. Mark’s almost thirty, and here I am, showing up with gifts first thing in the morning.”
She shooed her hand like she was worried she’d made a bad impression.
“I had a surgery canceled this morning, so I don’t have to be in until later. I’m glad to have the company. I’ve gotten used to having someone around.”
Was that true?
Mark and I were almost like roommates until recently, but his presence surrounded me, and I’d gotten used to it. Smelling him in my bathroom, little signs of him all over the house, and the thoughtful gestures that made me feel treasured.
“Isn’t that lucky for you,” Bev said, taking a sip of her coffee. She nodded her head and closed her eyes, smelling the coffee and taking another sip. “This is amazing. What creamer do you use?”
“Oh, here,” I said, standing up to take the bottle from the fridge and show her the brand. Bev reached down and took her phone from her purse, snapping a picture of the label. The delicious coffee smell in the kitchen was slowly being replaced by something that smelled even better. Something sticky-sweet and cinnamony.
“What is that smell?”
“Homemade cinnamon rolls for my oldest, Maverick. He spent all day Saturday weeding my garden, and these are his favorite.”
“I guess I should feel guilty that cinnamony goodness isn’t making its destination.”
“Heavens, no,” she said with a wave of her arm. “I can make more for him, and I wanted to thank you as well. You pulled Marcus’s irons out of the fire, and I appreciate you opening your home to him.”
Bev reached out and clasped her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Absolutely, I enjoy his company.”
“That’s good to hear, Jenna. I might be overstepping here, but he always holds everyone at arm’s length, occupational hazard and all that. This time will be good for him.”
I wanted so badly to ask her to elaborate, to shed a little light on Mark’s personality, but instead, I got up when the oven beeped and slid on oven mitts, opening the door to one of the most delicious smells I’d ever encountered.
“Oh my goodness, you should bottle that smell and sell it to a candle company. You’d be a millionaire.”
Bev chuckled as I plated two portions and brought them to the table. I filled our coffee cups and added a little more creamer before sitting back down.
“Thank you. Now dig in while the icing is still melty.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I said, taking a giant forkful of the sugary goodness. “I have a sweet tooth as big as this casserole.”
“I’ll remember that.”
I brought the forkful to my mouth and moaned around the bite. Sweet, gooey cinnamon flavors burst across my taste buds, and I put my fork down and closed my eyes.
“Bev, you are my hero.”
I took another bite as Bev sipped her coffee.
“Thank you. I should get going. I’m sure you have to get ready soon.”
