“You don’t have to—” I start, but he’s already taking the bag from my hands and grabbing another from the cab.
“Could you get the door for me? I’ll carry these in.”
“Sure.” I dig through my pockets for my keys.
“Oh.” He pauses. “The door’s unlocked. I took the liberty of going in earlier and letting Neptune out for a bit. I hope that’s okay.”
I stop, surprised, then smile. “Oh. Sure. Of course.”
I open the door for him, and he steps inside, pausing just long enough to shake out his boots at the entry.
Neptune comes barreling toward me immediately, sniffing at my clothes, leaning into my legs, demanding the attention he knows he deserves.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you.”
His tongue lolls out the side of his mouth, and it makes me giggle.
Aiden sets the bags on the counter and heads back out for more. I walk into the kitchen with Neptune at my heels and start unloading, filling the fridge and pantry. He’s back a moment later with two more bags.
“I hope it was okay that I let him out. I only did it because I knew you weren’t home. I wouldn’t just walk in if you had been here.”
I look up at him and smile. “Thank you for taking Neptune out. I’m sure he appreciated not having to hold it all afternoon, and I appreciate it too. I know he’s safe with you.”
His shoulders ease, his expression softening. “Okay. Good. I didn’t want you to feel like I was overstepping.”
“If you ever do, I’ll tell you. Deal?”
I hold out my hand.
He shakes it gently. “Deal.”
“I’ve just got one more bag to grab.” He turns toward the door.
“Aiden?”
He looks back, surprised.
“Do you have plans for dinner?”
He pauses. “No. I don’t.”
“I’m making pasta. Would you like to have dinner with me?”
His smile is immediate. “I’d love to. I just need to shower and make sure my uncle’s eaten, but I can be back in about an hour.”
“Perfect. I’ll organize these, take a shower, and get started on the sauce. I can make some extra for your uncle too, if you’d like.”
His smile widens. “I think he’d really enjoy that. I also have some fresh sourdough we can bake, if you want.”
“As in… homemade sourdough?” I ask, surprised.
He blushes. “What can I say? I like to bake.”
“Wait, did you make those bagels you brought me?”
His blush deepens. “Did you like them?”
“Like them?” I laugh. “Those were the best fucking bagels I’ve ever had. Please bring the sourdough. If it’s anything like your bagels, I might just eat bread dipped in pasta sauce.”
