Page 39 of If You Like It, I Love It

“I wasn’t expecting wine and roses.”

“You should always expect wine and roses. Can’t promise I’ll always live up to the expectation, but you’ll always deserve them.”

Her gaze falls to the floor as I step closer. I wrap my arms around her and immediately notice she’s wearing a new perfume, or maybe it’s some new hair product that I’m smelling . . . whatever it is makes me want to walk her straight to her bedroom.

“You feel every bit as good as you look. And you smell incredible.”

“Thanks.” She pulls away and reaches for the flowers. “I should put these in some water.”

“I’ll open the wine. Dinner smells amazing, too. What’d you make?”

“Baked rigatoni. And I officially christened the marble top on the island . . .” She trails off as if I’ll know exactly what that means.

It takes me a few seconds. “You made homemade bread?”

“I did.”

“Listen, my lease isn’t up until March, but I could be persuaded to break it.” The look on her face is pure horror. Since when does she not get my sense of humor? “Relax, beautiful. That was a joke. I didn’t even bring a change of clothes. I’m not moving in on you.”

“I knew you were joking.”

Her current smile is forced. Something’s off tonight. Maybe I’m coming on too strong, assuming we can pick right back up as if I haven’t neglected our relationship, taken her for granted. That was never my intention.

“I’ve really missed you, Joni. I’m sorry I haven’t been available. I know that wasn’t fair to you, but being self-employed, I always feel like I have to take the big jobs when they come. But to be honest, I was in over my head trying to manage two huge jobs at once. There were days I wondered what the hell I was thinking to take them both on at the same time. But the house is nearly done, and the restaurant addition is moving again. That one has been a permitting and inspection nightmare. I couldn’t buy enough of Trudy’s peach pies if I won the lottery. In the midst of all that, I still had several small jobs going. I’ve never been so swamped, but my schedule is getting back to normal, and I’m going to make it up to you, I promise.”

The cork leaves the bottle with a loud pop. It sounds celebratory to me, but she startles. Why is she so fucking jumpy? I hate this. She’s always been relaxed and at ease around me. I’ve screwed up worse than I thought.

“I’m truly sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, Enzo. I love seeing your business grow. I’m not mad at you. I’m tremendously happy for you.”

“You don’t seem happy. Is it Oliver?” Shit, I’m a bigger asshole than I realized. I haven’t even considered that he might’ve taken a bad turn. I just instantly made it all about me.

“Oliver’s fine. No better, but no worse. Still having some ups and downs. I’ve been too busy to give him the attention he’s used to, but my schedule’s getting back to normal, too. I think the time has come for all of us to get back to normal.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I pour the wine.

Her eyes are glassy . . . like she could burst into tears at any second. She’s obviously been under a lot of stress, and she’s had to handle it all alone. I know she’s capable, but I should’ve been there for her. It probably would’ve made things easier on both of us if we’d leaned on each other instead of turning inward. Old habits.

“I won’t ever shut you out like that again. And I’ll be better about keeping up with your life, too. We’re both used to counting on no one but ourselves. Change is hard, even when we want to let someone in. We’ll learn together.”

A tear slips from her eye. I set my wine glass down, but before I can reach her, the oven timer goes off, and she steps past me to take care of dinner.

The meal she’s cooked is delicious. Pretty sure I could live on this bread alone. I wish I could say our conversation goes down as easy as the food. The only lighthearted moment so far was when she asked me what the hell Trudy’s peach pies have to do with licensing and permitting. I thought maybe we were moving into more relaxed territory, but every time I bring up our relationship, she deflects and things get weird again.

Thankfully, she doesn’t pull away when I hug her in the kitchen after dinner. When I finally get the chance to kiss her, she doesn’t resist that either. Her signals are mixed, but I don’t want to overanalyze; I just want to enjoy being together again.

20

Joni

As soon as I saw him standing at my door with wine and roses, I knew inviting him over for dinner had been a mistake. It was selfish. I’d told myself I was doing it as thanks for the great job he did on my remodel, but his work on my kitchen wasn’t a charity project. His invoices got paid, and I’d already verbally expressed my appreciation. Leaving it at that would’ve been fine.

The truth is I wanted so desperately to see him again I would’ve accepted any excuse my brain came up with. It’s also true that this dinner was a bad idea, and we can’t keep putting off the inevitable.

But when he kisses me in the kitchen after dinner, I tell myself another convenient lie: there’s no harm in putting it off for one more night. I kiss him back like we’ve slipped into an alternate reality where nothing we do tonight will have any impact on tomorrow, where there are no sliding doors moments and the butterfly effect doesn’t exist. Just one more night . . . free from consequences.

I know what I’m hoping for is a fantasy, but recognizing that doesn’t make me want it less, doesn’t prompt me to deny this kiss or step away from his touch, doesn’t keep my feet from following when he pulls me toward my bedroom.