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She’s quiet for the moment but there’s a topic I’m dying to bring up. “So you mentioned soulmates earlier…”
She grabs the dishtowel from me, wiping her fingers on the material. “Uh-huh?” Grabbing a wine bottle from the rack on the counter, she pours herself a glass of red. Then she pours a second glass, setting it down near me.
“Well since I’ve been here, I haven’t seen any Prince Charming throwing pebbles at your window in the middle of the night.” I catch her by the waist and playfully push her aside so I can get to the bottom drawer to put away a baking dish. “Where’syoursoulmate, Ms. Brighton?”
She strolls over to the fridge, her delicate nostrils flaring. “Hopefully, he’s somewhere getting super rich, working out five days a week and doinglotsof psychotherapy, because when we finally meet, he’s gonna need to have his shit together.”
I find myself chuckling and shaking my head as I push the conversation forward. “And what about the guys you’re dating in the meantime?” I drop some clean cutlery into the drawer.
Head buried in the fridge, her shoulder pops up in nonchalance. “I’m not really dating right now.” She turns and hits me with a custom-made glare, designed just for me. “And before you ask—no, I’ve never had a serious relationship. So don’t even ask me that.” She emerges with a slab of salmon, a head of cauliflower and some fresh herbs.
“No way,” I say, towel-drying a cutting board as we speak.
She grabs the board out of my hands. “Yes way.”
I fall silent, opening a cupboard door and arranging the clean coffee mugs in a neat row.
“What…?” she asks me with a laugh, mirth dancing in her eyes as she merrily chops up her cauliflower.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
But I have a dozen questions bouncing about in my head at once.
If she’s not dating, does she get lonely?
Does she ever miss having someone to talk to?
Someone to kiss?
Someone to fuck?
I don’t know which question to ask first. Hell—I’m not sure which of my questions would even be appropriate.
We work in silence, both lost in our heads, occasionally taking a sip of wine. I enjoy being next to her, even though we’re not exchanging a word. I just like knowing that she’s here next to me. I like her companionship.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Karli whipping up some sort of sauce and drizzling it over the salmon that she eventually slides into the oven. Damn—I’m sure that’s gonna taste great. But I don’t want to be sniffing at her food tonight like a pitiful Cocker Spaniel.
When I’m done putting away the dishes, I head to the pantry and survey my dinner options.Packaged soup tonight? Orcannedsoup? Hmm. Canned soup sounds all right. Or maybe tuna and crackers. Yeah. Tuna and crackers.
I grab the items I need and head back to the counter. I grab a plate and start arranging my crackers.
By now, Karli is taking her own dinner out of the oven. She gives me a wary look as I grab my tuna and reach for the can opener.
“That’s what you’re eating?” she asks as she starts dishing out her delicious-smelling, home cooked meal onto a plate.
“Yes,” I say defensively.
Her head tilts in disbelief.
“These crackers are whole grain,” I argue. “Packed with fiber. And the tuna is full of protein and—”
She grabs my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. “Okay, no. Just no.” She slides her steaming plate across the counter to me. Then she reaches into the cupboard for a second plate which she stacks high with fish and veggies.
“Thanks,” I tell her as she refills her glass of wine and then mine.
Karli takes her dinner and nudges the back door open with her hip, heading out onto the deck. “You coming?” she asks over her back.
She doesn’t catch my grin. Wanting more of her companionship, I flick on the outdoor light then grab my meal and the wine bottle before following after her like a puppy chasing a scent.
