“How do you know? I haven’t told you what was said.”
“If she told you the whole truth, then you would know I wouldn’t want you to see her.”
My stomach tightened in discomfort.
He continued his stare like we were opponents rather than allies on the same side.
“It’s been years, Carvel. Let’s move on.”
“I really cared about her. And she knows that. There’s no scenario where she doesn’t know exactly how I felt.”
I felt a tight cord around my neck. Felt it around my arms and the increase in the pulse underneath my skin.
“And then she just disappeared. Her apartment was abandoned, she dropped her number, and I looked for her for months but couldn’t find her. Now, I guess part of the reason for that wasthat she gave me a different name. I had no idea what the fuck happened to her.”
I wasn’t sure if I should share those details. If she wanted him to know, she would have already told him. That proved that she’d told the truth, that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. Otherwise, she would have shared with him as she shared with me. “Carvel, you know I’m not the kind of guy to cross boundaries like that. But this relationship is already solidified now, and I’m not going to walk away just because you two had a past. I’m sorry that it bothers you, but I’m invested at this point, and I’m not giving her up.”
He stared at me with a stone-like face, his features hard like they’d been carved with a knife. “Then I guess we have nothing else to discuss.” He abruptly left the chair, and it tipped over from his momentum. Then he walked out of the room, his boots audible on the stairs as he left headquarters altogether.
I’m coming by.
Her dots were immediate.Okay.
Our relationship had profoundly changed because I’d stopped asking her permission. I just told her what was happening, and she accepted it.
I walked in the door ten minutes later, and her heels had been left by the entry under the hooks where she hung up her coat. The apartment smelled like food, a hot meal coming from the kitchen.
I spotted her by the counter, barefoot but still in a tight skirt and blouse.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of me, our tense conversation a memory in the past. She moved into me and rose on her highest tiptoes to kiss me.
My arm hooked across the small of her back, and I lifted her slightly, my neck bending to kiss her, feeling the same heat between us despite the waves that tried to douse it.
“Hungry?” She planted her hands on my chest as she pulled away.
“Always.”
She smiled then turned back to the stove. “Set the table.”
It’d been a long time since I’d done anything like that, but I found the white plates in the cabinet and put them on the little table near the flower vase. Then I grabbed a couple of forks and spoons and knives, unsure what we were eating.
She opened the oven door then pulled out a sizzling hot pan.
When the smell hit me, I knew it was pot roast. Smelled pretty damn good.
She set it on top of the stove to cool and then sliced up a baguette she must have grabbed on her way home. Tossed it in a bowl and put it in the center of the table before she uncorked a bottle of wine.
I took a seat and watched her work, watched her make a home so naturally. She couldn’t cook the way my chef did, but in some ways, I actually preferred what she made.
She didn’t make conversation as she worked, too focused on what she was doing.
Fine by me, I enjoyed the show.
She eventually set the deep dish on an oven mitt in the center of the table, along with a large spoon for serving.
A woman had never cooked for me, had never done anything for me before her.
She served herself first, and then I plopped the meat, potatoes, and carrots onto my plate. I’d come here with an agenda, but the food was hot and good, and it stole my focus. She didn’t say much either, just watching me eat and taking her time with her meal.
