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I chuckled a little as my anxiety eased. It turned out my black cat was simply being a black cat. “You hate small talk,” I said, understanding a bit more.
“I despise it. Loathed it. And now people are looking at me on the street and smiling. They are telling me about their lives. I don’t care about their lives, Yara! Did you know Harrison from the bakery just pulled his grandson’s tooth out with pliers? Well, I do! Because he caught me on the street the other day and told me all about little Ryan and his fucking tooth! Fuck little Ryan and his fucking tooth!”
I couldn’t contain my laughing fit as Alex proceeded to flip out.
“Stop laughing,” he muttered, kicking his feet in a huff. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“Yara,” he urged. “I can’t be your fake boyfriend if it means I have to be like you.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Then don’t.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“Don’t be like me. Be exactly who you are. Don’t do the small talk. Walk away whenever someone bothers you. Don’t engage. Growl at people for all I care.”
“But people might talk about you dating an asshole.”
I shrugged. “They were already talking about me, anyway, since the divorce. Let’s give them something juicy to talk about. Besides, the whole point of the fake dating was to get Cole off my back. You don’t have to make friends because of me.”
He grumbled a little more. “I don’t?”
“No, silly. Just be your cute, grumpy self. It works for you. Besides, maybe with your grumpiness, people will stop telling me so much about their lives, too.”
He narrowed his eyes and whispered. “Do you secretly hate small talk, too?”
“Oh, yes. I despise it,” I whispered back, stepping closer. “So be exactly who you are, Alex. I like you that way.”
He huffed and puffed and grimaced with comfort. “Good. As long as we’re on the same page. Now, let’s get back to the apartments before anyone else sees us coming.”
The night before the Fall into Fall Festival, I made a plan to introduce Cocoa and Feliz. It would be the first night the two dogs would be meeting one another. I was nervous about introducing the two, but unlike mine and Alex’s and my not-so-meet-cute, Feliz and Cocoa darted around my apartment as if they’d been friends from day one.
I almost cried seeing their interactions because Feliz was turning into a completely different dog right before my eyes. On the first day I had him at the day care, the first day he wouldn’t go near other dogs. Slowly, though, he began to open up little by little. Piece by piece.
I felt as if his owner was doing the same thing with me. Giving me a little more each day. Piece by piece.
By midnight, the two cuddled together, sleeping as if they were brother and sister.
Around one in the morning, there was a knock on my door. I stood to answer to find an exhausted-looking Alex with containers in his hands. “Hey, Goldie.”
“Hey, you.” I stepped to the side to let him in.
He came inside and glanced at the two sleeping dogs. “Did my Cujo make a new friend?”
“To say the least. She’s the peanut butter to his jelly, it appears.”
“Sorry I’m late. I ended up cooking after the restaurant shut down for the night.” He moved to the dining room table and set down the containers. “I made you dinner. Based on your love for Ritz crackers with cream cheese, I figured you’d only have some box mac and cheese or ramen noodles.”
“You made me dinner?”
“Yeah. And don’t say you’re not hungry because if you stay awake past midnight, you’ve earned a second dinner.”
“I told Cole you’d make me dinner. I mean, I was lying just to get him off my back, but I didn’t think you’d…” My heartbeats raced faster and faster. My Cujo made me dinner. “That’s really nice, Alex.”
“Don’t cry, Goldie. Just get two plates, will you?”
He was learning me so well that he knew when I was on the brink of tears. I did as I was told and grabbed a few plates. “Wine?” I asked. “I have some cheap bottles in my cabinet.”
“I brought a bottle, too, from work. Sit. I’ll serve you.”
I’ll serve you.
I didn’t think he meant for those words to turn me on slightly, but alas. Turned on, I was.
I took my seat, and my stomach instantly rumbled as he took the lids off the food. Second dinner was definitely a thing when it came to Alex’s food. I wished this could be a tradition from here on out.
He made my plate and set it in front of me. “Honey glazed chicken and a kale brussels sprout salad. For dessert, a birthday cake,” he explained.
I giggled a little. “A birthday cake? That seems random.”
