“Hey,” Ryan says as he enters the apartment. He’s holding a large black garment bag in one hand and smaller bag with a shoebox inside in the other. Duke flings himself off the couch to jump and claw at Ryan’s legs, his butt shaking in excitement in a painfully adorable way.
Ryan hooks the bags on the hanging coatrack that’s mounted beside my bike and leans down to give Duke a good scratching. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?” He stands back up after a few seconds and looks over at me with a smile. “Hi.”
“Hey. How’d everything go?”
“It was good,” he says. “Wedding attire is hereby done and for the record, I did get the lady to lower the price, so if you wanted to submit your apology to me in writing, I’ll give you some time to do that.” I roll my eyes and Ryan goes on, “How were things around here?”
“Everything went fine. Me and Duke hung out and I got some writing done.”
“That sounds nice. I’m a little jealous.”
“Yeah, we’re quite the dynamic duo. I don’t want to rub it in your face, but he straight-up told me he likes me better than you.”
“I bet. Well, despite his turncoat love for you, I’m glad you guys had a good day.”
“Thank you. You want some wine?” I get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen area before he answers.
Ryan meets me there, seeming unsure as he watches me pour him a glass of Riesling. It’s probably not his drink of choice but he’ll have to make do since I don’t like beer. I wish I did. I always wanted to be a cool, beer-drinking girl, but the scent of the stuff is just so off-putting. If I had to imagine what a bottle of fermented armpit juice would smell like after sitting out in the Nevada sun for a month and a half, my guess would be beer.
“I’ve never had white wine before,” Ryan says.
“Well, as a connoisseur, I promise you this bottle is quite lovely.”
“It’s strange to think that you barely drank in college. You went from zero to wasted in two drinks flat.”
“I’m still a bit of a lightweight but I have gained some experience since then.”
“Oh, really?” Ryan asks. “I might need you to prove that to me.”
Prove my experience? With him? Um, okay!
“So how was your day?” I ask unsteadily as I finish pouring his glass.
Ryan twists around to lean back against the kitchenette counter as he picks up his wine. “You already asked me that.”
Crap.
“Did I?”
“Yes, but I’d be glad to go again. My day was good. It was weird not being at work, though. It felt like I was skipping class.”
“Don’t you ever take a day off just for fun?”
“Not really. Why would I?”
For some reason, Ryan’s words give me pause. Is he so set in his routine that taking a day off doesn’t even cross his mind? Or does he have nothing or no one worth slowing down for? Whatever the case, I don’t want to press him. Rather, I turn to the stove and pull the lid off the pot of fettuccini.
“You hungry?” I ask.
Two minutes later, we’re settled at the dining table with our food hot and plated in front of us. I’m about to dig in when Ryan lifts his glass.
“I’d like to make a toast,” he says. “Thank you for making this amazing meal, for taking care of Duke and for letting us stay here. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I say with an embarrassed smile.
We take a sip of our wine and place the glasses back onto the table. The pasta smells impressively tempting and we’re soon digging in.
“Tell me more about your job,” I say when I eventually take a breather.
