“Uh, come in,” I say, shaking myself out of this. He does, and I let him in the foyer.
“I didn’t know if you already ate,” he explains, setting the paper bag on a console table. “I had some things to deal with at The Parlour, so I didn’t have time to.”
“Were you tattooing someone?”
“No, I barely ever get time to do that now,” he explains, pulling off his gloves and revealing his inked knuckles. “I was handling the accommodations for our next guest artist.”
“Oh, I see…”
We stay silent for a moment, sitting in awkward tension. The delicious smell of whatever he brought gives me the presence of mind to do something about it.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” I offer, picking up the bag.
“Should I remove my shoes?”
“As you prefer. I usually remove mine because they are uncomfortable,” I explain, which makes him look at my elegant slippers.
When he kneels to undo his laces, I offer, “I think there’s a pair of—” No. Suggesting that he uses the slippers Eddie left behind is probably not a good idea. “Never mind,” I say instead.
Even though I make my way to the kitchen alone, I’m tense all over. Things will get better. As soon as we’re naked, everything will flow like it always does. By the time he joins me, I’ve taken out plates and cutlery and am emptying the bag to discover what he brought. Lebanese food. Yum!
Now that he’s with me, the tension builds up again. This silence between us is so uncharacteristic that it’s all I can hear. We’re never like this, we always have things to say, even just to provoke or tease one another.
We both try to put an end to it at the same time.
“Jake, I—”
“Gen, I wanted to—”
We stop, stare at each other, and amusement cracks through his unreadable expression. “You first,” I insist.
He passes a nervous hand through his hair, averting his eyes. “I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved at the gallery. I shouldn’t have done or said those things. It was weird.”
“It was, wasn’t it? Maybe Constance put something in the champagne,” I say pensively, trying to lighten the mood.
He chuckles, scratching his angular jawline in an embarrassed manner. “I’m sorry for acting like a prick.”
I appreciate that he acknowledges it, and I hope the incident was only a fluke, not the worrisome preview of more problematic behavior to come.
“I’m sorry too,” I say in return, hoping for a clean slate.
“For what?”
“I didn’t know Eddie would be there, and I’m sorry you had to… I don’t know, see me with him? I’m not familiar with sex arrangements, but they often get messy, don’t they?” I ask.
He thinks about his answer for way too long, so it doesn’t feel genuine when he settles on, “They do, yes.”
But I dismiss my doubts, deciding to believe the gallery was indeed a fluke. “So, we’re good?” I insist.
“Yeah, of course. I told you I was fantastic at one-night stands. I just need to get used to having several of them with the same person,” he humors.
I grin, amused by how he puts it. “Let’s eat.”
Before I can pick up the plates, I feel his looming presence right beside me. When I questioningly glance up, he frames my face with his big hands and holds me in place while his lips softly land on mine. He doesn’t devour me like he usually does but gives me a series of brief and intense pecks instead. My heart flutters with every single one. Then, he pulls away, enough for me to get lost in the lush green of his eyes.
“I missed you, red.”
“I missed you too.”
