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I walk to the kitchen with her right behind me and Zeus on my heels, betrayer that he is.
She lifts the lids to the pots and pans and says proudly, “I’ve made tamales, poc chuc, quinoa salad, rice with green chiles, onions, and pimentos. For dessert, I made a dulce de papaya.”
She watches me as I lift one of the serving spoons to sample the rice.
I nod my head as I finish it off.
“Where’d you get all of this? I didn’t have it in the frig.”
“The international grocer a couple of blocks from here. Since you have an account with them, I decided to take you up on that offer.”
“You let them up here?” I ask, unable to hold off the gruffness in my tone.
“No. They delivered it here, but after I placed the order, I ran downstairs and told Texas what I needed. He agreed to meet the delivery driver and bring it to me when it arrived.”
I make a mental note to holler at Texas about that because he never told me about it. I’d specifically called to check in on her; he had never mentioned it.
“Before you bust his balls, I asked him to keep it quiet. I told him it was a surprise for you and to please not tell you if he didn’t think it would compromise my safety.”
“He’s a fucking Prospect. We don’t have him around to hear his ideas or opinions. He’s not in a position to determine what compromises your safety.”
“I understand, but...please. Just this once, have mercy on the poor guy. I promise not to put him or you in that situation again.”
The fact that she would consider me even for a moment causes some of the fire in my veins to simmer.
“No more deliveries. Understood?”
“Understood. Are you ready to eat?”
“Starving.”
“I’ll fix your plate.”
She’s got me worried now. What the hell is this? Domesticated Moni on steroids is scary because I wonder what she’s up to.
“Wait. What’s going on, Moni?”
She pauses with a spatula in her hand, hovering over the tamales. Frowning, she asks, “What do you mean?”
“This domestic you. Why’re you cooking and offering to fix my plate?”
Shrugging, she says, “I’ve had a lot of time to think, Nitro. I know I haven’t been humble, grateful, or even appreciative of what you’re doing for me, but I am. This is just my way of saying thank you.”
I fold my arms over my midsection, leaning back against the counter. “You’re welcome.”
It’s as though my words were the release mechanism on a lock, freeing her to proceed with what she’d begun. I watch as she moves expertly around the kitchen, preparing my plate and gathering my eating utensils before moving to the refrigerator and grabbing a beer.
I take the plate from her hands and the beer, and we head back into the living room. I take my place in an armchair, and she sits on the couch with Zeus, once again, right beside her.
I eat silently as she continues watching the cooking show, and for a moment, I wonder what it would be like. To live a normal life and come home to a woman who cooked, cleaned, and shared a meal with me. A woman who told me about her day and asked all about mine.
That’s never been a dream of mine, but for a minute, I allow myself to think about it. I must have a look on my face because Simone comments on it.
“What?” she asks just as I finish my meal.
Shrugging, I reply, “You tell me.”
“You’re just so quiet, and you had this bemused look on your face.”
