“Maybe a new phone case.”
“Also noted. What else?”
We finish hanging the lights before I reply. “Maybe we could take a vacation this summer?”
“Sure. You, Steffi, and me? What did you have in mind?”
“Just you and me,” I correct him.
He lands a row of lights across branches before he responds. “I’d like that. Where are we going? Martha’s Vineyard? Cape Cod? Nantucket? The Hamptons?”
I can’t help but laugh. “It doesn’t have to be so high-end. A beach trip would be nice. But maybe a small house. Nothing too fancy, okay?”
“A luxury cottage, then,” he says with a smile. “We’ll boil up lobsters every night and track sand all over the rental house from our days by the ocean.”
“There’s something else,” I say with a touch of anxiety. I adjust some lights and fidget too much with their placement. “I mentioned this before, but ... could Esben come over for dinner?”
“That’s not a Christmas present, but absolutely.” His eagerness is palpable. “Any night is fine. Oh, I could do an appetizer tray with smoked salmon, deviled eggs...and then beef Wellington for an entrée and a trifle for dessert!”
“I...I was thinking something less formal.”
“Well, sure. Box spaghetti and a jar of sauce it is,” he says with mock pouting.
“Okay, okay. Upscale and show off your cooking it is. And wine. There better be wine.”
“Why? You nervous for dear old dad to meet the boyfriend?”
“A little,” I confess.
“Don’t be. I adore him already. Anyone who makes you this happy is clearly someone I’m going to like.”
“Okay.”
“Then we’d better get this house in Christmas order to impress him!” Simon crosses the room to retrieve one of three ornament boxes. “Let’s do this!”
CHAPTER 22
DANCING
Simon reties his apron yet again and surveys the kitchen. “Okay, I think we’re in pretty good shape. Does Esben like cheese? I hope he likes cheese!”
I can’t help laughing. “Why are you more nervous than I am? He’s going to love you. And the cheese.Allthe cheeses.” I glance at the tray. “All nine of them.”
“Did I go overboard?”
“I would expect nothing less.” I go to the sink to wash my hands after shaking my head over the plate of rather gloppy deviled eggs I just made. Obviously, I don’t have Simon’s cooking gene, but it seems his best effort to teach me today has failed wildly. “So, Simon,” I start a little cautiously, “now that even I am dating, I was wondering about you.”
“Wondering about me what?” Simon is leaning over the cheese platter for a bird’s-eye view while he obsessively rearranges the positioning of the cheeses.
“Wondering about you dating. I mean, are you? You haven’t mentioned anyone.” I dry my hands and then pause. “Oh. But maybe you wouldn’t have. Because I’ve been such a closed-off shrew.”
“Allison!” He stops fussing with the cheeses and glares at me. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. I do not have a boyfriend, nor have I been dating. I don’t know how to meet people, really. What am I going to do? Go cruising a gay club at my age?”
“You’re only forty-three! But I’m not sure a club is the best idea. What about online dating—”
I am interrupted by the doorbell.
“He’s here! He’s here!” Simon shouts. “Where are the grapes? Oh, never mind. I’ll add those later.” He tears off his apron and beams at me. “Are you ready? Do I look okay? Should I answer the door? Do you want to make an entrance?”
