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He doesn’t say anything at first, but then offers out a quick, “Yeah, I remember.”
I want to inquire more about his answer, but he quickly changes the subject, and I note that I’ll have to ask him about it at some later date. Right now, I need to finalize my dinner choice.
“Maybe you can ask her dad what she likes,” Jared offers, and I let out a hiss at the idea.
“I can’t possibly do that. He has no clue about any of this,” I explain, tensing at the thought of her dad knowing.
That is not a conversation I want to have any time soon.
“Oh, really?”
Endless amusement shines through his voice.
“Of course not. I can’t imagine he’d have the most positive reaction. I mean, she’s his only child and ten years younger than me,” I point out.
“Cradle robber,” Jared bites back, and if I wasn’t so worked up about dinner, I might have been able to come up with a worthwhile retort, but I let it slide instead.
Just this once.
“I need tonight to be perfect.”
I lean back in my chair, giving my hand a break from scrolling.
Maria doesn’t think I’m the same guy as when I first met her, but I still want to be able to convey to her just how much I care about her. It feels comical that, at age thirty-three, I’m experiencing feelings that are more typical of a teenager.
“It will be perfect. Even if you burn the food or poison it or it turns out completely terrible, I’m sure she’ll be able to see past it,” Jared tells me, and I can almost see the smug look on his face.
“Thanks for the kind words,” I tell him sarcastically, taking a glance at the corner of my desktop to check the time. “I have to get back to work, so I can leave at a decent time to pick up some groceries. But you should meet her. Let’s meet up for drinks, and you should bring Jessica.”
“Sounds like a plan. And good, I need to get off this call so I can reclaim my manhood,” he tells me, sounding completely serious.
With a quick goodbye, we hang up.
I’ll do a shrimp alfredo. It may be simple, but it’s probably a dish I will mess up the least.
It’s time to get back to work. I can’t afford to be stuck in the office late tonight with what I have planned.
Despite my cooking worries, I am excited to have Maria over. I haven’t seen her since I was in the classroom on Monday, which is way too long. And I would be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind that she might be ready to spend the night.
It’s a definite possibility.
A knock at my door prevents me from exploring that wet daydream further.
“Come in,” I grind out, annoyed.
I'm taken aback as Tom strides in, a noticeable spring in his step. He's virtually the only lawyer I've encountered who consistently exudes positivity.
“Hey, Tyler, how’s everything?” he inquires, settling into a chair facing my desk.
“Things are progressing well. I’m working on the Trenton account,” I explain, opening my files to lend an air of authenticity to my words.
For obvious reasons, I can’t exactly tell him that I was looking for potential recipes for dinner with his daughter.
“That’s good to hear. That one’s been quite the challenge,” he says, easing into his seat. His usual calm demeanor tends to put me at ease, but today, my nerves are tense. Keeping things secret is not for the faint of heart.
“How's the volunteering going? Are Maria and the kids treating you right?” he asks with enthusiasm in his voice, though, I suspect his main interest is in hearing news about his daughter.
“Yeah, um . . . It's enjoyable, the kids are fantastic, and Maria has some exciting plans lined up,” I reply, aiming for nonchalance and hoping it's enough.
