Page 54 of Emil

“It’s during work hours, but I wondered if I could rearrange my lunch on class days. If it’s okay with you, I’d come in early and stay late to make up the time.”

“No, you won’t do either.”

“Oh.” His quick denial knocked the air from my lungs. All that nonsense earlier about how different he was from John came flooding back. Whatever his reason for telling me no, I was sure it was valid, but the quick denial stung. A lot. “Okay. Maybe next time then.”

“Wait, no. Take the class. But you’re not making up the time by coming in early or staying late. Just take the class. If you were in the office, there would always be downtime spent chatting with coworkers or whatever. Consider it water-cooler time.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I appreciate it.” I moved by instinct, or the phases of the moon, or something I couldn’t explain, and leaned forward to kiss Emil on the cheek. When I pulled back, the heat in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You’re very welcome.”

“Although it might not matter.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m working on the last section of the files you gave me. Once the project is over, there’s no reason for me to stay out here.”

Emil looked thoughtful but didn’t contradict me directly.

“When this project wraps, we’ll figure out what comes next.”

Oh. Deep breath. “Okay.”

“Anders, that was the best damn pot roast I’ve had in my entire life. Full stop. No notes. No pot roast will ever be better.”

“Oh stop.” I felt my face blush at the compliments, but secretly, I did a happy dance inside. My pot roast was good, and I knew it was, but I was so, so satisfied that Emil thought so too.

“Please never change it. And make it often.”

I stood up to clear the dishes and Emil tried to help. Except he picked the items up in the wrong order, and it made it more work for me to organize them for cleaning. I had a system, and he didn’t know it.

“If I promise never to make it any other way ever again, will you not help me and let me clear the dishes the way I like them cleared? Please?”

I braced for what came next. Emil’s openness may have lulled me into a false sense of security. My request might’ve been a bridge too far.

“I just want to help.”

“And I just want to take care of you.” Anders, you idiot. “I mean…uh…” There was no plausible explanation for the nonsense that had come out of my mouth. What is wrong with you tonight?

“All right.”

Whether Emil understood me or not, he did what I asked. He set the dishes back on the table and let me handle them. I cleared the table in record time, got the leftovers put away, wiped the counters, and loaded the dishwasher. The kitchen was back to looking tidy, and the flowers I’d told myself I’d take home that night shone on the table.

And Emil was right there. I halfway expected him to leave the room while I finished, but he’d sat back down at the table and watched me the entire time. He didn’t interfere or talk to me while I worked, which I appreciated. The quiet let me get myself under control, feel less flustered, and more settled.

“It’s done.”

“Are you ready to talk about it, or do you want to wait?”

“Let’s get this over with,” I sighed.

Emil smirked at my phrasing but answered me with, “I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

Just like the other day, he took me by the hand, and we went into his workshop. I knew he had a proper living room because I passed it every day, but the workroom was where he spent his time. Maybe all his meaningful conversations happened here? I wanted this to be an important one.