“My OCD. People meet me and that’s it. It’s not what anyone’s looking for.”
“Vincent, I’m not anyone.” I gently kiss his head. “And Corrine and Ruth love me. They want to love you, too.”
A huge sigh escapes Vincent’s lips. “But am I loveable?”
My heart balloons. I pull him closer and say, “Oh, my smoothie.”
“Excuse me?”
I chuckle. “Smoothie. Vincent, you don’t have a single hair on your body. And you’re ridiculously sweet. Like a chocolate peanut butter smoothie. But way fewer calories.”
He smiles and lowers his head.
“Listen, I like you too,” I say, wrapping my other arm around him. “A lot.”
“Yeah, but it’s me liking you that’s the problem. Because now,” he says, clasping his hands together, “your ex-wife and your friend will see what a mess I am.”
“Vincent Manda. My smoothie. Look at me.”
He glances up, and the color has partially returned. His hazel eyes focus on me as I do my best not to get lost in the brown eyelashes sweeping over his brow.
“Look.” I nod down at my shirt. “I’m covered in butter. And carrot peels. And”—I poke at something on my shirt—“maybe black pepper. Or paprika. I don’t know, but the point is I’m the definition of a mess. And those ladies upstairs?” My lips brush his temple. “They still love me. Loving someone means cherishing every imperfection. Because those are what make you special.” I lift his chin, my thumb rubbing along his lower lip. “They’re going to love you too. Ruth already has a crush on you.” I give his forehead another peck. “Vincent, you’re quite loveable.”
He brushes his lips on mine. The kiss is short and soft, like two well-loved LEGO pieces melting into each other.
“Okay. Okay. Let’s go,” he says. “Before I change my mind.”
I take his hand, give it a squeeze, and we head up.
“Couldn’t wait to get it on—” Ruth’s wisecrack greets us as we enter, but she’s interrupted by Corrine, who moves toward the door, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Vincent. I’m so happy to meet you.” Corrine tucks her hair behind her ear and offers her hand. Vincent glances at her hand, me, and then takes it.
“Same,” he says, handing her the flowers.
“For me? That was thoughtful.” Corrine smells the flowers and a sweet smile blossoms on her face. “Daisies are my favorite,” she says, and slips the apron over her head.
“Nice move,” Ruth says, winking at Vincent.
“Kent has told me so many lovely things about you.” Vincent hangs his coat next to Ruth’s.
“Don’t believe any of it. This one”—she nods at me—“is full of platitudes, but how am I supposed to play the role of evil ex-wife if all he does is fawn over me?”
“Corrine’s an honorary lesbian,” Ruth says. “Friends with your ex. Even after you’ve moved on … ” Ruth nods. “I wholeheartedly approve.”
“Is that really a thing?” Vincent asks.
“I’m still friends with all my exes,” Ruth says. “It’s how I have so many damn friends.”
“Come, sit.” Corrine nods toward the stools under my island. “The peas are almost done. Kent made everything else.”
“He roasted a chicken for you,” Ruth says. “A whole fucking chicken.”
“It’s the only thing I know how to make,” I say with a shrug.
“Because I taught you.” Corrine uncovers the peas and steam escapes into the room.
“And you taught me well.”
