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He gave her more apples and walnuts and cream, and she smiled, delighted as a kid at Christmas. “You’re a great cook.”
Funny, the way that hit him—with a wash of warmth, as if nobody had ever told him before. “You’re great to cook for.”
Maybe when he opened his new place, he should do breakfast. He’d always liked cooking breakfast. Humble food.
But humble food didn’t get you Michelin stars. You’d have to transform it into some whole other thing. Tamarind syrup on your griddlecakes. Oxtail reduction swirled on top of your hand-ground Italian grits.
As May got toward the last few bites, she slowed down, and he caught her cutting her eyes in his direction a few times. Or at the clock on the stove?
“What time do you need to be at the airport?”
“The flight’s at eleven.”
Ben looked at the ceiling, doing some quick mental calculations. “I have to be somewhere in about an hour, but I could drive you first. I mean, you’ll be like four hours early, but—”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. I
’ll take the train.”
“To Newark?”
“Sure. Why not?”
She looked a little peeved, so he turned his back and stuck a few dishes in the sink, trying to think of an acceptable reason why he couldn’t get comfortable with the idea of May going to the airport alone.
She’d been mugged yesterday. She’d nearly fallen into a hole in the sidewalk on the way to the taco place. Now she wanted to take public transportation to Newark Airport, alone.
Probably she’d be fine. But if she wasn’t, who would even know?
“Look, just let me drive you. Otherwise you’ll have to change trains, what, three times? And you don’t have a phone or your stuff … it’s no good. If I take you, I can hang around a few minutes and make sure you get through security all right.”
“But you’d have to park and come inside. And if there’s a line, you could be late for your thing. I couldn’t impose like that. You’ve been really great, but I’ll be fine with the train. I’m really good at the trains—I’ve been back and forth from New Jersey to Manhattan like a dozen times since I moved here.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m late.”
“It matters to me.”
“Jesus, woman. You’re hell on my peace of mind.” Ben put his hand over his heart and tried to look as though he were kidding.
May smiled, so it must have worked. “There is one thing you can do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I hate to ask, but is there any way you could loan me a few bucks to get to the airport? I’ll pay you back. You can give me your address, and I’ll send you the money. It’s just that I only had five dollars, and I spent it on that beer last night, because I thought, you know, what good is five dollars going to do me? And at least it meant I could sit on a stool for a few hours. But my metro card won’t work for the train to New Jersey, and—”
“Stop.” He held up his hand. “I get it.”
The words came out too sharp. He chastised himself for it while he looked for his wallet. A nice person would have realized she needed money without her having to ask.
He pulled the cash from his wallet and frowned at it. Not enough.
But when he handed it to her, she said, “I don’t need all this.”
“You need more than this. I’ll run out to an ATM and get you enough to pay cash in case you have to get a hotel again.”
“I can’t, Ben. Seriously.”
“You don’t know what’s going to happen. If you have to stay over by the airport—”
