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“Oh, Elizabeth.” I came up behind her, placing my hand on her shoulder. “This all looks amazing.”
“Well, I was going to cook a Shepherd’s Pie, but Clay suggested I keep it simple and not scare you with too much meat.”
“I would have loved anything here.” I reached for a towel. “Let me help. I can take the pasta and potatoes to the table.”
“Thank you, dear,” she said sweetly.
I made two trips, first placing the potatoes in the middle of the table, and then coming back with the pasta. Clay stood at the table, close to me, as I set the dish down. When I stood and arched slightly to look at him, he gave me a sly smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“It’s just pasta,” I whispered back, holding back the urge to kiss him. His five o'clock shadow proved that he was comfortable. Normally he was clean shaven around me, but this was who he was now. I wanted to trace my finger along his jawline. Instead, I formed a fist to keep my fingers from doing things they shouldn’t.
“Not just that.”
I raked my teeth on my bottom lip. “I know.”
He held my gaze at first, wanting to break the space between us, but instead, he just looked at me. His eyes began to roam my face, my hair, my collarbone, and finally my lips. His gaze was heavy on me as the heat began to build in my own body. I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend I didn’t want him, because it was obvious now, to me and to everyone in the world, that I did. The kisses we had shared were only the beginning of what we could be, what I still wasn’t sure I wanted. But his eyes still wandered. I watched him, breathing in the moment, wanting to breathe him in, as his knuckles gently glided along my cheek. I inhaled, holding my breath as he slowly leaned toward me.
“Okay, dinner is served!” Elizabeth shouted, breaking our moment. Clay blinked and inhaled, turning toward his mother. Just that five seconds gave him the exact same reaction it had given me, except he was going to give me more, and I wished Elizabeth hadn’t broken his trance.
Clay pulled out the chair and waited for me to sit before taking his own seat next to me. Paul and Elizabeth sat across from us, and the fat cat made his way into the kitchen and under the table.
“The cat begs?” I asked, watching as his tail disappeared.
“He’s fat for a reason.” Clay leaned in toward me, placing his fabric napkin on his lap. “Mom gives him table scraps.”
“I do not.” Elizabeth got defensive, looking at her son. “But yes, Ophelia, he thinks he’s a dog.”
“Because you give him table scraps,” Clay mumbled.
I shook my head and picked up my fork, reaching over to grab a piece of garlic bread. “So, Paul is doing woodworking. Elizabeth, what have you been up to these days, besides cooking amazing food?”
“Just staying at home. I read. I crochet. I cook—”
“She watches way too much television,” Paul joked. “She quotes shows more than books. She’s also on a pickleball team.”
I raised my eyebrows and smiled at Elizabeth. “Pickleball?”
“Since when?” Clay asked, his mouth full of bread.
“I joined last month, just a few games here and there.” Elizabeth sat up a little straighter. “I have a match coming up. You should come!” She brightened up as her gaze drifted toward me.
“When?” I asked with just as much enthusiasm.
“Wednesdays. Not this coming Wednesday, but in a few weeks.”
“Oh, well, I’ll be back in New York soon after the wedding,” I muttered, genuinely sad that I couldn’t see Elizabeth kick some ass at Pickleball. No doubt she was amazing.
“I’d love to see you play, Mom. I’m sure I can figure something out once all this ends. We’re still planning Milo’s party, and Ophelia is knee deep in wedding gowns now.” Clay turned to me as he mentioned wedding gowns.
Elizabeth smiled. “Weddinggowns, as in more than Madeline’s dress?”
I blushed and nodded. “Yes, actually. I’m getting my own boutique. I had a client who was impressed with my line last year and wanted to invest in a boutique. We went from being seasonal lines to gowns.” I beamed. I was still so excited about it, almost so that I would jump off a bridge again.
“She’s being modest,” Clay said, his eyes focused on mine. “Thirty designs and a shop on 5thAvenue. This investor already has some mock designs up, and her Instagram has blown up.” He looked back to his parents. “She opens up in November.”
“And I’ll have Clay to help me keep my finances in line.”
