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“Well, you certainly made it up to me tonight.”
He shakes his head. “That doesn’t count. I didn’t help with your cat to earn your forgiveness.” He looks at me earnestly. “I’m sorry I left you hanging the other day. I had an emergency, but I should’ve communicated better. And I shouldn’t have let days go by without reaching out. I promise it won’t happen again. I promise I’ll work as hard as I can on Darlene’s funeral.”
“Thank you for the apology.” I swallow. “I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt and not assumed you didn’t care.”
“Everyone else would’ve thought the same, so don’t worry,” he says, and although his tone is light, I detect a hint of sadness.
He turns away, his eyes back on the TV, where the next episode starts to play.
“Thanks for saving Mort. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t show up.”
“I’m glad I could help.” After a beat, he adds, “Weird that your boyfriend wasn’t around to help.”
My head snaps in his direction, but he’s focused on the TV with a big grin on his face.
Oh, he knows.
“I never said I have one. You simply assumed.”
“And you didn’t correct me.”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“Mm-hmm.” He still looks smug.
“And I could have a boyfriend, you know? Maybe he simply wasn’t around tonight.”
He chuckles. “Trust me, I’m well aware you wouldn’t have a problem finding a boyfriend.”
My cheeks warm at that. Something about that throwaway compliment makes me feel good. It reminds me of when we met and he said he would’ve remembered someone like me in high school.
“Did Kora tell you I don’t have one?” I need to have a chat with my so-called best friend about what she tells men about me.
“No, Mike did.”
“Mike? Why did he talk about me?”
I already know they’re friends and that they previously talked about me, but I’m curious to hear what he’ll say.
“You sorta came up,” he says, slightly uncomfortable.
“Oh.” I decide not to press him about it. “Are you dating someone?”
“No.”
We watch the show for a while and fall into a rhythm of mindless commentary.
“He’s definitely going to say the cake is underproofed,” Hayden mutters.
“You can’t possibly know that. It looks fine from the outside.”
“Didn’t he have a whole breakdown a few minutes ago about how he didn’t have time to leave it to proof because he had to remake the dough?”
“I guess.” I’m skeptical. “At least his frosting stayed on. Anna’s has completely melted off.”
“She didn’t have time to let the cake cool.”
I look over at him and grin. His arms are crossed, and he’s so focused on the TV that I can see a crease on his forehead. He notices my gaze and turns to face me. He studies my amused expression.
