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“My ex-husband turned out to be a scumbag who cheated on me with my sous chef.”
“I caught my ex-fiancé banging my cousin in our bed a couple months before the wedding.”
“Okay, you win. I like Manny. I’ve always liked Manny. I don’t want to mess him up.”
“Then you won’t,” Trey told her.
“Then I won’t.” She nodded, pushed out. “I’ve got to get back to the wars. Bring her in again. I like her.”
As Bree arrowed away again, Sonya spooned up some bread pudding. “I can see why you had a thing with her. Twice.”
“The second time wasn’t really a thing.”
“I can see why. So, if I take a vow of silence, will you tell me what you think about Bree the chef and Manny the drummer?”
“I think I wonder why it took him this long. He’s had a soft spot for her for years.”
“That’s nice. And it’s nice you didn’t tell her that. It keeps things balanced between them. So.” She took another bite of bread pudding. “Head Case?”
Nearly three hours after they’d driven away from the house, he parked beside her car.
“I didn’t know how much I needed this. You did.”
“Everybody needs a break.”
“The lamp’s on in my bedroom,” she noted as she got out of the car.
“I’ll go up and check.”
“No need, really. My… chambermaid? I don’t know what to call her. I assume her. She does that every night when she turns down the bed, puts the fire on. And from the sound of it, the dogs are on guard.”
The barking stopped the minute she opened the door. Both dogs greeted them as if they’d been separated for months.
“I’ll walk them around.”
“I could use the walk, too.” Instead of getting the leash, Sonya pointed at Yoda. “I’m trusting you to stick to the program.”
It didn’t take long to realize he’d not only stick to the program, but very close to Mookie, his new best friend.
“Thanks, for every bit of this,” she said when they walked back to the door. “Please don’t expect anywhere near the same level of cuisine on Friday.”
“We’re looking forward to it. All of us. Call,” he insisted. “Anytime. No bullshit on that, Sonya.”
“Message received.” She knew when a man was about to kiss her, and he wasn’t. So she scooped up the dog and opened the door. “Thanks again, and I’ll see you Friday. Good night.”
Inside, she snuggled the dog, leaned back against the door.
Tonight’s music choice, Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
The next afternoon, she bundled Yoda in the car. Armed with her mother’s shopping list, she drove to the market for the supplies needed for the dinner party she now feared more than the room on the third floor.
She took Yoda into the flower shop, much to the delight of the florist.
She sent flowers from Yoda to his foster family.
And left with flowers and the possibility of another client, thanks to the work she’d done on Practical Art.
