That’s my job, and it’s what I’m going to do.
“Is anyone here?” I poke my head inside and watch as she appears from behind a display of colourful scarves.
“Come in, honey. I’m just sorting through the latest delivery.”
I step into the shop and approach her. She takes one of the scarves and drapes it around my neck.
“I’ve always said how well this colour suits you.”
“Red? I don’t think so.” I take off the scarf and place it on the display with the others.
“What are you doing around here?”
“I came to see if you want to have dinner together tonight.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, why?”
“We usually have dinner together on Thursdays and lunch together on Sundays.”
“So?”
“So, if you’ve come here on a Monday, then something must be bothering you.”
“I’m not that predictable.”
She raises an eyebrow, questioningly.
“Okay, so I’m organised – that doesn’t mean anything.”
“If you’re sure…” She looks at me from above her glasses. “Your place or mine?”
“Wherever you like. I thought we could order a takeaway.”
“Why? I’ll cook.”
“Because I don’t want you to cook for me.”
“Who else am I supposed to cook for?”
I smile at her as she kisses my cheek gently.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
Jordan
Iris insisted on cooking, so tonight we’re having fettuccine with chicken and broccoli, one of her favourite meals. We’re sitting at the table, which is laid for two, in front of the window between the kitchen and the living room. We each have a glass of red wine and an unreasonably large portion of pasta in front of us. I barely touched my food at lunch, so I don’t hold back now, plunging my fork into the fettuccine and shovelling a generous helping into my mouth.
“Haven’t you eaten today?” She asks, watching me.
I chew quickly, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
“Not much.”
“Busy day?”
“Busy enough.”
