I step into the apartment and find Elliott in the kitchen holding a takeout container overflowing with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and collard greens. “That looks delicious.” It’s depressing to see him eating like a king when I only have a TV dinner in the freezer.
Tomorrow, I’m going grocery shopping. I don’t care how tired I am.
“I’m glad you think so because there’s one for you on the counter.”
“You bought me dinner?” I think I might cry.
He shrugs. “It’s the least I could do for the woman who redecorated the entire apartment.”
Oh, right. The decorations.
By the time Elliott got home last night, the wine had done the trick, and I was happily snoring away in my bed of clouds, forgetting all about the beautifying spree I may have gone on.
The thing is, nothing matched my old apartment’s sickly green paint so I never bothered buying decor.
Well, that and I never had any money.
Elliott’s apartment, however, is beige and brown and is it my fault that I found the perfect forest green throw for his couch? I couldn’t let the throw be the only spot of color, so I grabbed a couple of pillows to compliment.
Then this framed picture caught my eye, and I couldn’t leave it behind either.
“Sorry. I went overboard, didn’t I?” I always do that. Jump right in with two feet. Move in with your hot neighbor? Why don’t you redecorate his entire house while you’re at it? A manly man like him will love ruffles and floral patterns.
“Not at all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Loren, it’s fine. I’m only giving you shit. I told you to make the place your own, and you did.” He kicks his feet onto the corner of the coffee table, right next to the scented candle I bought along with the two others in the bathroom and my bedroom.
They were buy two, get one free.
Everyone knows that’s a deal you don’t pass up.
Tears prickle the backs of my eyes when I flip open the lid on my own takeout container, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.
CHAPTER 32
ELLIOTT
August
Are you coming out tonight or what?
Hello?
Yoohoo
Anyone home?
All I wantedwhen I got home from work was a beer and an hour or two of mindless TV. But the moment Loren swept through the door, I realized that was a dream that wouldn’t come true. First, she cooks chicken cordon bleu, which is distracting as hell because she’s wearing these tiny shorts and keeps checking the oven, which requires her to bend over.
I’m trying not to be a pervert so I’m not staring, but fuck me, do I want to.
Then, she offers me some, which is basically my love language.
To make matters worse, after dinner, she throws herself onto the couch next to me and she somehow still smells like peaches even after a long day of work.
The moment her ass hits the cushion, she’s right back up like a fucking jack in the box, skipping over to the tv stand, and throwing open the cabinet doors.
