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Her eyes go to the two cups, and she bites her plump bottom lip. Am I crazy, or are her eyes shining? “Oh. The coffee smells wonderful. But I can’t.”
I nod in understanding. “I thought maybe that was the case, so I brought some herbal tea since you’re feeling under the weather.”
She exhales through pursed lips as if dealing with some heavy emotion concerning beverages.
“Did I do something wrong? God, of course, I did. I’m bothering you, and you need your rest….”
“No, no. It’s not that.” Meredith’s smile is reassuring, which makes me feel like an even bigger asshole. “Come on inside.”
Meredith stands aside and gestures for me to enter her apartment, which opens into a small kitchen. I’m hit with the scent of lavender and mint from a diffuser billowing on a side table by the door.
I set the drinks and the bag on the table while she sprints to the bedroom.
“What is all this?” Meredith asks when she returns, her legs now covered in pajama pants. “Tell me you didn’t bring me food from the cafe.”
As I unpack containers of soup, fresh bread, crackers, and ginger ale, she stands across the table, gripping the edge like someone waiting for her next attack of vertigo.
“The cafe sent food with me,” I say. Am I stretching the truth to sound less creepy? Absolutely.
She laughs. “How did Jenny know I was sick?”
I shrug. “Everybody knows everything about everybody in this town.”
I pray this is good enough of an explanation. To my relief, Meredith simply shakes her head and pulls out a chair.
“I could use some sustenance,” she says weakly. “And I think I can keep this down. Jenny’s soup always makes me feel better. Stay and eat with me?”
“I figured your boyfriend could have whatever you don’t eat. When he comes down to look after you.” Smooth, Nate.
Meredith slumps into a chair a bit forcefully, and it’s disconcerting. “He won’t be coming down.”
Wait, what?
“You should tell him you’re feeling ill. I’m sure he’d beat a path down here in a heartbeat,” I say, retrieving a bowl and utensils. I can’t find a ladle, but I do a decent job of pouring soup from the container into the bowl without spilling any on Meredith’s floral tablecloth.
I sit across the table from Meredith and watch her eat, her sweet lips pursing to blow on the first steamy spoonful. She tastes the soup and hums in gratitude. “This is good. I hope you don’t mind; I’m going to dunk my bread in the soup.”
I lift one shoulder and chuckle. “What else is bread for?”
She smiles as she dunks her sourdough with gusto. I’m relieved to see the color returning to her face as she eats.
I shouldn’t push. And yet, I need to.
“So…why is Chad not coming down?”
Meredith chews her food and tells me with her eyes that I’m about to learn something big. She sets down her spoon, dabs her mouth with her napkin, then looks me dead in the eye.
“Because he’s in Mexico. And, because he and I broke up about a month ago.”
Slap my ass. Finally, some good news.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, not even trying to appear sorry, a grin tugging at my lip.
That grin disappears when she follows up with, “Yeah. He found someone else and left. Just like that. Said he needed someone who was freer to see the world with him. Didn’t like it that I wanted to focus on my career.”
On the one hand, I can’t believe that jerk would let her get away. On the other hand, now, finally, after pining after her for six months, I have a shot.
“Prick,” I mutter.
