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F I F T Y O N E
- Maeve -
I was halfway down the hall when the intoxicating scent of fried chicken hit me, and my mouth started watering before I even realized it was coming from Finn’s place. Our place? I didn’t know what to call it anymore. I mean, it was definitely his place, but I’d been spending enough time there that he’d suggested I move in on more than one occasion.
Not that I had any plans to sell my apartment. I was too proud of it. I’d bought it myself, decorated it myself, and at this point, it was as much a symbol of my hard work as it was an investment. Plus, no one would even consider buying it until we repaired the skirting board Otis had chewed to bits in my front room. Little monster.
The smell intensified as I dug my keychain from my bag, along with the doggie bagel I picked up at Einstein’s on my lunch break. And when I cracked the door open and caught Finn cooking up a storm, the thought God bless this man crossed my tired mind.
“It smells good all the way to the elevator,” I said, closing the door behind me.
Finn was standing over the waffle iron with a cold beer in his hand. “Hey,” he said, smiling my way. “Perfect timing.”
I kicked my heels off and headed over to greet him, noticing a pretty bouquet on the butcher block that wasn’t there when I left that morning. “Those are pretty.”
“They’re for you,” he said, glancing towards them. “Hope you don’t mind I vased ’em already. Figured you’d rather enjoy them here than at yours.”
“You mean because you can’t get rid of me?” I leaned in for a kiss, his lips warming me from head to toe.
“Get rid of you?” he asked, hooking his strong arms around my waist. “I’d keep you here all day if I could. You know that.”
He’d joked before about me quitting my stressful job, but just because he had enough hobbies (and enough money saved) to keep himself busy during the day didn’t mean I was going to hang up my career. I think my exact words were “over my dead body,” and I was grateful he hadn’t pushed the issue.
I looked down when I felt Otis’s little paws on my leg, and squatted to pet him between his soft, floppy ears. “Hey little guy. You happy to see me or is it the doggie bagel in my pocket?”
“You’re spoiling him,” Finn said, feigning disapproval. “That’s his third doggie bagel this week.”
I smiled at Otis and handed the small brown bag to Finn. “You’ll break it up for him, though, won’t you? Look at that face.”
Finn looked down to find Otis sitting tall on his best behavior, his tail flicking back and forth across the floor. “Spoiled rotten.”
“Says the guy who gave him spaghetti last night.”
“Boy, did we regret that today,” he said, shaking his head at his adorable sidekick. “Didn’t we?”
“Wait, what exactly are you making?” I asked, my eyes clocking the glowing oven.
“Chicken and waffles,” he said. “It’s a thing. Or at least, it is in the south, and you know I like to make the waffle iron earn its keep.”
“Fine by me. It smells delicious.”
“I’ll be sure to give Gordon Ramsay your compliments if it works out.” He set the doggie bagel on the counter and smashed it with the side of his fist, making Otis and I flinch. Then he gave him a large chunk, and Otis ran away with it like it was a T-bone steak.
“What do they put into those things?” I asked, laughing as he disappeared around the couch.
“Not manners!” Finn called after him, as if Otis was interested in anything but the treat in his mouth.
“Do I have time to change before dinner?” I asked, taking a tentative step towards the bedroom, where my migrating wardrobe was beginning to seriously encroach on Finn’s side of the closet.
“Always,” he said, checking the light on the waffle iron. “But don’t be too long because I have some news.”
I stopped in my tracks. “What is it?”
He lifted his chin towards the bedroom. “Go change.”
“At least tell me if it’s good news?” I asked, turning an ear towards him.
He flipped his palms to the sky. “Would we be having chicken and waffles if it wasn’t good news? Now hurry up. I already set the table.”
