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“And I like that you like cooking for me, honey, but you deserve a night off on occasion. Should be here any minute. Want some wine?”
“Wine?” she repeated, brows pinching.
“Yeah, you know, aged grape juice. Gives you a little buzz?” I said, getting a small smile out of her as my hand hovered behind her back, leading her into the dining room.
“Oh,” she exhaled, looking around. “Wow.”
“You did a great job in here,” I told her as I poured glasses of wine.
“I kind of did, didn’t I?” she asked, giving me a smile as she took the glass. “Your family is going to love coming here for a meal for the first time.”
I could see it, too.
Ma, Ant, my sisters, all gathered around the table.
Me helping Avery bring out the meal.
I liked that image a lot.
“You’ll have to make that lasagne for that,” I said, smiling.
“And show up your mom? I don’t think so. Maybe I should make that lobster ravioli.”
“Are you trying to kill my family?” I asked, watching as her mouth fell open.
“You said it wasn’t that bad!”
“Honey, I lied,” I admitted, getting a chuckle out of her.
“I should be offended, but I totally threw up that night,” she said, wincing. “So what did you order?”
“Chinese,” I told her. “Something different.”
“Oh, that sounds so good,” she said as she took a sip of her wine. “This is amazing,” she said.
“I know a guy who owns a winery,” I told her.
“Well, he is good at what he does. Oh, you know, I think I might have enough ingredients to make something for dessert.”
“You’re really struggling with the concept of taking the night off, huh?” I asked.
“It’s not like work, though,” she admitted. “It’s, I don’t know, it’s…”
“It’s like life,” I said, shrugging.
“Yeah, I guess,” she agreed. “A super fancy, much nicer than mine, life. So, of course, I like living it,” she added, turning away as she spoke, so I couldn’t see her face, but I could hear the vulnerable edge to her words.
“It is your life, though,” I said.
“It’s playing pretend,” she said just as the bell chimed, prompting me to go grab the food.
Whatever negative mood had been clinging to her before fell away when we pulled little white containers out of the bag and started to eat, talking at first about more design shit for a while. Which was an easy way for Avery to let her guards back down again. And I got to watch her light up with her ideas for my study.
“I mean, obviously, no pressure. I know you are a little… particular about that room,” she said.
I was protective of it.
Because it was where I did business. It was home to what little evidence I might have around the house of my illegal dealings. Mostly just notes, shit that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. But still. Work shit. Stuff I didn’t want to fall into anyone else’s hands.
“I like your ideas,” I assured her. And it would be nice to have the room have some character to it, since I spent a decent amount of time in it.
“Pretty soon I’m going to be focusing on the garden, though,” she said, smiling wistfully. “I have been doing so much research on plants. Admittedly, in the past, I’ve managed to kill every green thing I’ve touched. But I am going to get it right this time. You know how nice it would be to grow my own herbs to cook with, so they aren’t all sad and wilty in the fridge?”
“I was just looking at the garden, thinking you’d want to grow herbs.”
“Oh, and a bay laurel!”
“A bay laurel?” I asked.
“That’s where bay leaves come from. Do you have any idea how expensive bay leaves are? And they’re in like every single recipe.”
“Baby, I don’t mind paying for the bay leaves,” I said, shaking my head at her.
It was such a small amount of money to worry about. But it wasn’t the first time she’d worried about the cost of something, despite it being pretty obvious that I was doing rather well in life.
It spoke more about her own upbringing, I guessed. And, I realized, for all the talking we’d done, we hadn’t spoken much about her.
“Is your mom into gardening?” I asked.
“My mom?” she asked, looking up. “Oh, ah, no. My mom passed away,” she said, twirling some lo mein, but not actually eating anymore.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Recently?”
“When I was nineteen. It was very sudden. It was just… just me and my brother after that.”
“Your brother… is he older?”
“No. Younger. I’d become his guardian when our mom passed.”
“How much younger is he?”
“About six years. Give or take a few months.”
“Nineteen raising a kid. That couldn’t have been easy.”
“No,” she agreed with a humorless laugh, her gaze on her plate as she nodded. “No, it wasn’t easy.”
