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“Not tonight.”
“Hmm,” she says, not giving me an idea if she’s disappointed Claudia won’t be joining us, or happy to have me to herself. “What is she up to?”
Claudia, the reason I’ve been able to keep my priest-like state of celibacy. She comes over after work. Dines with us, enjoying whatever meal we’ve ordered and had delivered for the evening. Then the girls watch movies while chatting over all the dialogue or change into leggings and oversized tees and walk the Village for fitness.
I’ve overheard Lily telling one of our analysts that she doesn’t like yoga. That she feels like she’ll fall over or fart during the class, then die of embarrassment. I think she’d be humiliated if she knew I heard her say that.
“Claudia has hot yoga tonight.”
“Oh. Okay.” She bites her bottom lip, thinking. “Can I cook for you? You’ve done so much for me, and I have no way of paying you back?—”
“You work hard,” I say.
She gives a huff. “That’s my job. But you’ve done so much other stuff for me. Let me cook.”
She looks at me, her eyes pleading. She’s too adorable to say no to. Finally, I concede. She leaves the office smiling with satisfaction. Later, she leaves early, eager to do her shopping for this evening’s meal.
Walking home, my stomach growls. I’m starving. This girl has given me an insatiable appetite for food and sex. I pat my flat stomach, thinking I might start working on a pooch if she’s as good at cooking as she is at oral sex.
I open the door, ready to be greeted by the smell of good food cooking. Instead, an acrid scent hits my nose. Burning food. “Hello?” I rush to the kitchen to see where the source of the smoke smell is coming from.
“Hey…” She’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, her head in her hands. She’s surrounded by pots and pans and dirty dishes. The countertops are covered in what looks like every cooking utensil I might own.
She keeps her face buried, trying to hide her tears.
“Are you crying?”
“I just wanted to make a nice meal for you. You’ve done so much for me, and here, I can’t even make you dinner!” Grabbing a wooden spoon, the charred remains of something unknown marring the round end of it, she tosses it into the sink. “This is pathetic! I’m pathetic.”
She does look pathetic, but in the most adorable way. A strong need to comfort and protect her rises in me. I grab her into my arms, wrapping her up tightly. “I don’t care if you can’t cook. I love that you tried. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked me dinner.”
“I didn’t cook your dinner! I tried to poison you with burnt chicken and a collapsed cake.” She wriggles out of my arms to open the oven. I peer inside to find what looks like my cake pan, filled with a chocolate soup, the edges burnt to the pan.
“Correction,” I say, trying not to laugh at the puddle of a cake. “I can’t remember the last time someone tried to make me dinner.”
“Ugh. Tried and failed.” She looks like she’s going to start crying again.
I need to get her away from the monstrous mess she’s made. I grab her hand, dragging her down the hallway. “Come with me.”
She pulls back toward the kitchen. “Where are we going? I can’t leave these pans. I should let them soak.”
“I have people who do that. I’m putting in a call. We’re going to walk down to Vinny’s. Pick up a pizza to bring back here and we’re going to put our feet up and watch a movie while we stuff our faces. Sound good?”
She raises a brow to me. “Are you even for real?”
“Kiss me and see.”
Smiling, she rises up on the balls of her feet, wrapping her arms around my neck, and kisses me softly. Warmth creeps through my chest, feeling the sweetness of her lips against mine.
We walk through the city, hand in hand. Chat and laugh over sodas at Vinny’s while we wait for our pepper and sausage pizza to cook. The scent of garlic and cheese follows us home.
We arrive to a sparkling clean kitchen, the scent of lemon lingering in the air, every dish clean and put back in its place.
We curl up on the couch and find a cheesy action film so we can laugh at the terrible one-liners. Afterward, we cuddle and chat until she’s yawning. Then I put her to bed, a chaste kiss on her cheek.
Once she’s asleep, I slip into the bathroom in need of a hot shower. The warm water streams down my back and I lean against the cool tile, thinking of her lips against mine.
Her laugh.
