“The universe almost killed me yesterday. I don’t think it’s invested in my love life.”
“Or,” Heidi said in a conspiratorial tone, “it knew the only way to get you two together was dramatic intervention. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You didn’t cause the blizzard, Heidi.”
“Did I not?” She paused and laughed. “Okay, no, I didn’t. But I’m claiming credit anyway. Now hang up and go flirt with your mountain man.”
“He’s not,” I started, but she’d already hung up.
I stared at my phone, Heidi’s words echoing in my head. Was I that obvious about my feelings? Had Geoff noticed? More to the point, with his advanced hearing, had he heard Heidi’s part in our conversation?
“Everything okay?” Geoff called from the kitchen.
“Yeah, just Heidi being Heidi.” I joined him at the counter, where he was assembling sandwiches. “She’s convinced the universe is conspiring to set us up.”
I said it like a joke, trying to keep things light. But Geoff’s hands stilled on the bread, and when he looked at me, his expression was unreadable.
“Would that be so bad?” he asked quietly.
My heart stopped. “What?”
“The universe conspiring.” He set down the butter knife, turning to face me. “Would that be so bad?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Had no idea what to say. Was he asking what I thought he was asking? Or was I reading too much into it?
“I,” I started.
“Sorry.” He turned back to the sandwiches, his ears twitching. “I made it weird. Forget I said anything.”
“Geoff.”
“Grilled cheese coming right up.” His voice sounded forcibly cheerful now, the vulnerable moment packed away. “Want tomato soup with it? I make it from scratch in big batches. I’ve got some frozen. All I have to do is reheat it.”
“Sure. Sounds great,” I said, because what else could I say? My brain was short-circuiting, trying to process what had just happened.
Had Geoff implied he was interested? Or had I completely misread that?
We worked in silence for a few minutes, him cooking, me setting the table. The easy comfort from earlier was gone, replaced by a tension that made my skin feel too tight.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.”
“You didn’t. I did.” He ladled soup into bowls. “It’s been nice having you here. I don’t want to mess it up by being inappropriate.”
“You’re not being inappropriate.”
“I asked if you’d mind the universe setting us up.”
“And I didn’t answer, which was rude of me.” I took a breath. “The answer is no. It wouldn’t be bad.”
Geoff froze, his back to me. “Maya.”
“I mean, it would be complicated. Obviously. Less complicated now that we both live in Calamity Creek, but we’d have to figure out the whole species difference thing, and I haven’t even moved into my apartment.” I rambled on, my nervous energy on full display. “But the core question of would I mind? No. I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”
He turned around slowly, soup forgotten. “You wouldn’t?”
“Geoff, I’ve been talking to you almost every day for three years. You make me laugh. You’re kind and thoughtful and you remember my coffee order and you carried me through a blizzard and made me hot chocolate and let me wear your hoodie.” I gestured at the garment in question. “It’s really comfortable, by the way. You’re basically perfect except for your terrible puns.”
“My puns are excellent.”
