“My favorite room?”
Grant nods. “Usually painting becomes a little more exciting if you see the change in your favorite place. It also might tell a lot about a person.” He winks.
I glance around my house.Are people just supposed to know their favorite room? And do I even have one?
I know my dad’s is the living room, where he watches every football game possible. He doesn’t have a team; he truly just loves the sport. Although he was pretty fond of the New York Giants for a couple of years. He didn’t just watch football then. He felt it.
I did, too.
“What’s your favorite room?” I deflect, putting my hands on my hips.
“I actually love my greenhouse.”
“You have a greenhouse?”
He nods, opening the pizza box.
“What do you grow?”
I watch as he takes a slice, inspecting it before he takes a bite. His face contorts, adjusts, and then he swallows. “I grow roses in the summer and snapdragons in the winter. Both are my mom’s favorites.”
“So, what’s that say about you?”
He takes another bite, his eyes widening as he chews. “Well, it could mean I’m nurturing or optimistic. But I think it might just mean I love my mom.”
I laugh. “Probably not as much as she loves you.”
“Never.”
I open a cabinet, grabbing a box of Rice Krispies. “You can have this, you know.”
“This isn’t so bad.” He lifts the pizza in his hands slightly. “You just have to power through the strangeness of it.”
I grab a bowl and then open the fridge to retrieve the milk. “You don’t have to power through.”
“I’m trying something I’ve never done.”
The words cause me to pause. The flyerdidcome from the hardware store, somehow, almost magically in my bag.
“Like speeding down a back road?” I ask, the words more of a whisper, as I close the fridge.
“I suppose.”
“Or ordering dessert first?”
His dark brows scrunch together. “I do that all the time. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. Now my favorite room—” I walk through my house, inspecting each one.
The bathroom. The bedroom. My office where I often bring work home—definitely not my favorite. The living room. The kitchen.
I’m not sure I like any of them, and I wonder what that says about me.
I cross my arms. “Let’s start with the kitchen.”
Grant grins. “Heart of hospitality. I always knew you were one to serve others.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “That’s me.”
