The space suddenly feels too small, and I start cleaning up the kitchen again, my actions mechanical. I’ll be lucky if Oliver doesn’t take a swing at me when I get home. Although it would be deserved.
She’s Oliver’s girl.Oliver is in love with her.
Amelia’s voice pulls me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts. “Are you always this tidy?” she asks, a tentative note in her tone as if reaching for normalcy after the awkward moment as she hops off the counter.
Relieved, I lean into the safer topic. “Living with Oliver will do that to you,” I reply, feeling steadier now. “He likes things clean, and… well, I know you appreciate that, given how neat your place is.”
Yes, let’s talk about Oliver.
He’s the better man.
She nods, seemingly ready to move past the discomfort too. “A clean space helps me think better,” she admits, glancing around her immaculately kept kitchen.
“Same for Oliver. He’s pretty good about keeping our place in shape and us in line with chores.” I snicker. “He helps us a lot and makes it easier to focus on work… and everything else. He’s amazing.”
God, I want to sell him to her, not sound like I’m the one in love with him. But she has to know that he is clearly the right person for her. They have so much in common, and I should support that, not complicate it.
“And you? Besides cooking, any other hidden talents?” Amelia asks, her tone now steadier.
I chuckle, glad to return to our playful banter. “A few here and there. But let’s keep some mystery for now.” Eager to shift the focus away from me, I suggest, “How about some music?”
“Sure,” she responds with a casual shrug. “Jamie, could you play some music for us?”
The opening notes of “Invisible Beauty” by Frank Dang fill the apartment, and I mentally kick myself.
I had programmed Jamie to include some of my personal favorite tracks that weren’t in her usual playlists—Frank Dang included.
This song, in particular, reminds me of her.
I notice her body pause, her attention captured entirely by the music. “This is beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice a soft echo of the melody.
As she looks up, her blue eyes meeting mine, the words linger at the tip of my tongue, almost escaping,
Youare beautiful.
“Told you I could introduce you to music you never knew you needed.”
She just smirks at that, and we finish cleaning up in companionable silence. I’m careful to maintain a respectful distance, hyperaware of the boundaries I almost crossed earlier.
“Your culinary efforts are about to be tested. Twenty-five minutes are over,” Jamie chimes in, and I’m thankful for the distraction.
Tonight is a fucking mess.
As I pull the lasagna from the oven, the aromatic scent of melted cheese and herbs fills the kitchen. Amelia glances at the steaming dish, then at me. “So, are you staying to eat, or do you need to leave?” she asks with a hopeful undertone.
Do you wantmehere?Or do you just not want to be alone?
“I’ll stay,” I reply, setting the dish on the trivet. “I need to make sure we didn’t mess it up.”
We let the lasagna sit for a few minutes, allowing it to cool enough to eat. Walking over to her wall of windows, I gaze out, the gentle evening breeze wafting through the slightly open window.
Amelia joins me. “Is your apartment on this side too?”
“Yes, we’re just four floors up from yours,” I respond, glancing at the cityscape below. “You’ll have to come up to watch a movie soon.”
With all of us,of course, not just her cuddling into me on the couch.
“Planet of the Apestwo?” She grins mischievously at me.
