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“Yeah, turns out I didn’t actually have any pasta,” he said. “But I was able to think on my feet.”
“What is it? It smells delicious,” I said, inching into the kitchen a bit.
He smirked. “Just a little recipe I picked up in the military.”
“Well, whatever it is, it smells spectacular,” I said, hoping the compliment might make up for the fright I’d given him.
“We will see,” he said. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Anything I can do?” I asked.
“If you could grab a couple of plates,” he said. “Right up there in that cabinet.”
I smiled and grabbed two plates and followed him into the tiny dining room next to the kitchen. He doled out the orange-looking gravy and chicken pieces that I sort of recognized as a kind of curry. I sat down and watched as he rushed back into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses, returning and sitting one at my place and one at his.
“I’m afraid I’m not a wine guy,” he said. “I have a large selection of sodas and a smaller selection of beers if you would like. I also have”—he scanned his refrigerator and then popped his head back up to look at me— “filtered water and orange juice.”
“Water’s fine,” I said.
He smiled, coming back to the table and pouring the cold water out of a filtered carafe into both glasses. As he sat down, I picked up my fork and experimentally poked at the gooey rice mixture. Picking up a bite, I tasted it and immediately swallowed it down. The heat burned my throat but in the best of ways.
“Oh wow,” I said. “This is great.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I was hoping I remembered how to make it. I forget what it’s called, but I probably had it a thousand times while in the desert.”
“Glad I went with water,” I said, admitting to my pansy spice range.
“Yeah, it can be a bit hot,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
I refrained from telling him to not apologize for anything being hot. It’s not like he could help it.
That thought was followed by a curious tug at my heart. Something close to sadness. Tinted with nostalgia.
“So, you own the place next door,” he said in a half-question.
“Yes,” I said. “It was my grandparents’ when I was very little. When my dad passed away, they moved, and then when they passed a few years later, they left it to me. I let my mom oversee a lot of the details, but then when she died, I just kind of let the management company run it.”
“I am sorry to hear about your losses,” he said.
I looked up at him, ostensibly to wave it away, but stopped. There was an earnestness in his expression. Usually, when people said that it was perfunctory. With him, it seemed like he genuinely meant it.
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded, giving me a sad smile and then poked at his food, taking a bite.
“The management company seems to have slacked off a bit,” he said.
“Well, that’s not entirely their fault,” I said, sighing. “My ex was really controlling. To the point that he read all my mail and only gave me what he thought I needed to see. Which would have been fine if he wasn’t also stealing from me and letting things go to hell in a handbasket. I found out the place had been empty for a year, and they had stopped doing anything with it and also he had bled me completely dry. So I got up and left and drove down here.”
My jaw was still open, but the words stopped tumbling out. Suddenly, I was very, very aware that I was spilling every problem I had, all my dirty laundry, to a man who was very much a stranger.
“That’s terrible,” he managed.
“I am so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to pour everything out like that.”
“Its fine,” he said. “It seems like you’ve been through a lot.”
I nodded. I had been through a lot. And I hadn’t talked to anyone about it, either. My ex—I refused to even think of his name like he was Voldemort and might appear suddenly if I did—had isolated me so much that it felt so good to let it out.
“I didn’t realize how bad it was over there,” I said, trying to rebound and move past the embarrassment. “It’s way worse than I thought.”
“Like what? Other than the yard,” he asked.
“I really don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t get to see much of it. Too dark.” He chuckled at that, and I felt the curve of a smile on the corner of my lips. “I have a list from the management company, but even they said it was probably just scratching the surface. I just know there is a lot to do.”
“Well, luckily, you have a neighbor that can help out if you need anything,” he said, digging into his food again.
