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And it had everything to do with that stupid stained glass window.
I dropped my feet on the floor and stood up, walking to the kitchen sink, and rinsing out my mug. I absently scratched Edgar behind the ears, ignoring the drool that dropped on my bare feet.
Whitney said I wasn’t being fair to Rob. That I couldn’t expect the guy to spill his guts after only really knowing me for a few months. But that wasn’t it. She wasn’t there. She hadn’t been in the moment when I had truly felt we were on the cusp of something deep and important.
She hadn’t known how close I had been to handing him everything.
**
It had been a couple of weeks since our almost hook-up and I was feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. Emotions didn’t sit well with me at the best of times; add a healthy dose of shame and I was a mess.
But Robert had called me the very next day and the day after that he brought Chinese food and we watched my favorite Bruce Lee movie, The Way of the Dragon. I had started to almost forget that he had run out of my house so fast that you would have thought his ass was on fire.
I had told him I would make dinner and my kitchen was a mess. The contractors had only finished the sunroom two days before and I still had a lot of cleaning and organizing to do, but I wanted to do this for him.
It was Robert who had called a friend of his in the city who had his own building crew. Mike had come out and given me a quote to build the sunroom. A ridiculously cheap quote. When Mike told me the number I gaped in shock and asked him if he had hit his head on the way over. Mike laughed and I noted, not for the first time since he arrived, how astoundingly good-looking he was. Like male model good looking, if not a little too tall for my tastes.
“Consider it a friend rate,” he had said.
I looked at him as if he were speaking gibberish. “But you don’t know me.”
“I know Robbie and if you’re a friend of his, then you’re a friend of mine.” He gave me a smile that most women would have melted over.
“That’s more than generous even for a friend of a friend rate,” I argued.
Mike put his pen back in his shirt pocket and picked up his car keys ready to head out. “I knew Robbie during a real low point in my life. He was a good friend. He looked out for me. I knew that if I was ever in a position, I’d return the favor. So, this is me, returning the favor. He told me you were special, that’s all I need to hear.” He pulled his baseball cap down low over his ears. “I’ll send you a design to approve in the next few days.”
His story about Robert had only solidified what I already knew, this was one amazing man.
I was making chicken parmigiana. I recalled him saying that it used to be his favorite when he was a kid. I was no cook, but I could navigate my way around a kitchen and aside from the splashes of tomato sauce on the wall, I thought I had done a good job.
So why was I feeling like a basket case?
Robert showed up half an hour later, a six-pack of beer in hand and a bundle of wildflowers. “You didn't seem like the kind of woman to like roses,” he observed.
“And you’d be right.” I took the flowers and took him back to the kitchen.
“It smells amazing in here,” he said as we walked down the hallway.
“I’m trying my hand at chicken parmigiana. I hope I don’t serve food poisoning as a side dish,” I teased.
He put his hand on my lower back and pulled me in close for a moment, his lips on my forehead. “I haven’t had a good chicken parm in years. Thank you.”
I felt warm all over. “I didn’t say it would be good.”
He laughed and I could feel his lips, his breath, against my skin. “I’m sure it will be amazing, like everything you do.”
He followed me into the kitchen and let out a low whistle. “Damn, Mikey did a great job.” He turned to me. “Are you happy with it?”
“So much. I can’t thank you again, Robert. I’ve never had anything so beautiful in my whole life. I’m already thinking I want to buy some framed stained glass to hang from that large window.” I pointed to the glass behind him. “I just think it would be beautiful in the morning with colors shining in.”
“That would make it perfect,” he agreed.
When dinner was finished, we sat down and ate. Robert devoured the pasta dish, saying it was the best he’d had in years. I thought maybe he’d tell me about the last time he had his favorite food, but he didn’t. Our conversation stayed light. We laughed about a man who had come into the law office wanting someone to represent his pet duck.
