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Fortunately, there is an open place to park directly in front of her apartment. I get out with her, but she hasn’t caught on yet. “If you don’t mind carrying the groceries up, I can grab your luggage.”
Her face scrunches up as I lift the strap over my head. “The groceries are coming up? Are they for me?”
“They are for us.” As that last word leaves my mouth, it comes out with more breath than I intended.
Us. I’m positive I’ve used it before in reference to me and her, but this time, it means something different…something more…to me, at least.
She doesn’t say anything but moves quickly, opens her lobby door, and then holds it for me. Not one to miss an opportunity, I’m sure to brush her with my body as I move past her, inhaling her familiar perfume. A light and sweet smell of lilies and mandarin and, I believe, a hint of cucumber.
I follow her up the stairs, failing miserably at any attempts to clear my head. As she unlocks the door, I’m swept into a daydream of this moment becoming a regular occurrence for us. Trips to the grocery store together, planning a romantic evening for the two of us. After dinner, we could share a bottle of wine, turn the lights low…
The thunk of the grocery bags hitting her counter pulls me back to the present. Waiting for me to leave her small luggage and bag by the door, she stands still with herarms crossed over her chest, staring at me. The only action she is missing is tapping her foot. “What’s going on, Henry?”
“I thought you may be tired after your travel day, and I appreciate all your help with the movie, so I wanted to do something nice and thought I could cook you dinner…this evening.”
Maybe she doesn’t want this after spending ten hours flying.
She may just want to go to bed or I should have offered at the least to get take-away.
Cooking in her kitchen and surely making a mess, but I plan to clean up too, might not be what she wants this evening.
I suppose these ingredients will stay for another day. I can offer to come back tomorrow.
Or she can really make this for herself. I don’t need to be included.But I want to be.
“Oh, that’s very kind of you…” She doesn’t appear to be put off, but she is not elated either. Her brows furrow. “Why are you being so nice?”
So she does like this offer, she finds it nice. But she knows me better than this. I wish she knew me as the man who would plan a surprise dinner for her, but that’s not the case, not yet, at least. “Like I said, I wanted to thank you.”
“Did you hear from the studio?” Of course, she figured it out. She’s far too intelligent to keep anything from her, but also, I’m bursting to tell her. It was difficult enough not to call her the moment Mark called and again when I first saw her at the airport.
I move from the kitchen and stand before her. Keeping my emotions reserved and reluctantly keeping my hands to myself, I share. “They called last week.”
She grabs onto my arms and my body responds to her touch as if it was the air I need to breathe. “Do you have something you need to tell me?” How I’d like to grab her wrists, to place them behind my neck, bringing her closer to me. The endless emotions I’ve had day and night since she left flash through my mind, and I want to tell her each and every one of them, but this is not the time for that. No, she asked about the movie…
“You’ve put so much work into turning my reputation around…”
“Tell me! You got it?”
“I did.” I don’t know who moves first, but within an instant, her arms are wrapped around my neck and my arms around her waist.
This is bliss.
“Henry, Congratulations! This is wonderful news.” She pulls out of our embrace and I attempt to hide my disappointment at the loss of her touch but continue to bask in her closeness.
“Yes, I begin on Monday. I found out a few days ago, but wanted to tell you and thank you in person. I asked Viewmont not to release a statement until next week. I wanted to be the one to tell you.” She pauses, seeming surprised by what I said, and then takes a small step back.
“That explains the dinner. I was beginning to worry—the Henry I know wouldn’t do all this,” she says with a wave, and I wonder if I may have shown my hand too soon. “Do you mind if I grab a quick shower and changewhile you prepare dinner? I’d like to get out of my travel clothes.”
I gulp like a cartoon character at her mention of showering just a few steps away from me. I could join her, although I doubt her shower is that big. It can’t compare to mine. I think she’d like mine. I’m sure she would look spectacular in it.
“Unless you need help with dinner?” Her question pulls me out of my inappropriate daydreaming.
“Not at all. I’ve got this under control.” I turn to the groceries in an attempt to hide my embarrassing reaction. “Take your time.”
The door to her bedroom closes behind her as I pull the pasta and other ingredients out of the brown bag. There’s another door next to her bedroom that remains closed as I hear the water turn on. It must connect to her bedroom as well.I’m a grown man.Many women have showered in my presence. My lustful feelings are obviously one-sided, and I need to cool down. We are friendly…certainly friends at this point. I don’t need to ruin this by storming into that bathroom and worshiping every inch of her body.
Shaking away those feelings, I turn my focus on producing an exemplary dinner for the mastermind behind securing the most coveted movie in my career. I put music on my phone and get to work. She mentioned many times about her love for Italian food, so I put in a call to Max, who has become a master chef in recent years. He recommended a fettuccine Alfredo dish that he said was a midlevel dish that I could “handle.” Of course,with the water running, I am struggling to remember the order of ingredients for the sauce so I call Max quickly.
