Page 63 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

I stand back to let her in, but she doesn’t budge. Shyly, she holds up another brown bag. “This is for you.”

“A gift?”

“No. I mean, not like that. It’s not a big deal, just something you needed.”

Curious, I take the bag and peek inside. My heart grows three sizes. “You found my pencils.”

“Like I said, it’s no big deal. I was picking up supplies in Ruby Grove, and they have a great art store. Figured I should check for you.”

No big deal, my ass. I doubt Delilah regularly visits art-supply shops, and she knew I couldn’t find my favorite Blackwing Palomino pencils.

“Thanks,” I say as my stomach does a happy spin. “I’ll put them to good use.”

She ducks her head and crouches to pet Candy Cane. Not too vigorously. Candy still backs away if humans get too in her face. Delilah’s learned how to navigate my dog’s boundaries—when to remove her hand, when to go in for the under-the-chin scratch or the coveted butt rub. “She’s so cute.”

Both my girls are.

I leave them to it and putter around my kitchen, fluffing my rice with a fork, giving the curry a final lime squeeze, extricating bowls to plate my masterpiece, extra touched Sathya’s mom shared this recipe with me. I’ll have to send her a thank-you/get-well note.

Delilah sits on the other side of my kitchen counter, chin propped on her hands. “It’s like I have a front-row seat to Top Chef.”

“Good thing I’m used to being observed, otherwise I might slip and add too much chili. Burn you out of here.”

Her eyebrows pinch. “I hate the media for turning you into a sideshow.”

“I’m used to living with drama.”

“Doesn’t make it okay. If we have more lurkers tomorrow, I’ll kick them out.”

“And let someone else win employee of the month? I think not.” I fill our bowls and place them on the counter, where we can eat side by side, small dishes of yogurt raita and mango chutney between us. “Dig in, but if you moan too loudly, remember that Sandra probably has my apartment bugged.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Sandra was a receptionist at the security firm where she worked, not a private detective. She’s harmless.”

“But she for sure picked up a few tricks of the trade. Wait until she unearths your plot to eradicate Windfall of margarine in favor of butter and exposes you to the world.”

“You’re right.” Delilah contorts her face into a villainous scowl. “Sandra’s a menace. But she’s also a dog lover. You should ask if she’ll watch Candy while you’re at Ricky and Aaron’s wedding.”

That’s actually not a horrible idea. Sandra’s resourceful and wily. If Candy got into any kind of trouble, Sandra would sleuth their way out of it. “I just might.”

Delilah takes a bite of her food and does actually moan. “Oh my God, E. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

“Maggie and I went to a Bon Iver concert in Wisconsin and fell into this tiny Indian restaurant. I thought that was the best curry I’ve ever eaten, but this.” She lifts a spoonful of lamb and sauce, closing her eyes as she inhales the aroma. “This is magic.”

My cheeks heat. “Honestly, people enjoying my food is half the reason I cook.”

The way we’re sitting beside each other, my thigh is flush against Delilah’s. The close position’s not a tactic. My counter’s small, and my legs are long. Not that I mind. She hums while she eats, dropping a few more oh my Gods. I smile as I chew.

“We should cook together,” she says. “Instead of taking turns. I’d love to learn this recipe.”

“Cooking theme nights.” I nod and drink some water. “I’d be down with that. You can teach me how to bake, since that’s not my strong suit.”

“Only if you promise not to eat half the raw batter. I have no clue how you didn’t make yourself sick when you used to do that.”

I loved those afternoons, chasing Delilah around her kitchen, trying to steal the bowls from her grasp. “I actually did get sick once, but it was worth it.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Eating raw cake batter isn’t worth getting sick.”