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What would I give to know what she’s thinking right now.
The silence between us is comfortable, interesting even, for the first time since bumping into each other.
But does that mean she’s starting to drop her walls?
In sixteen years, they’ve turned into fortifications. But I’ll break them down, brick by brick if I have to.
“You’re staring,” she says.
I am, I could stare at her forever. “I’ll stop, but only if you tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
“No.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I have all day.”
“Don’t you have places to be? Work to do? A daughter to care for? Someone else to boss around?”
I check my watch. “Nora doesn’t get out of her fencing class for another hour, and the clinic would probably consider me taking care of our most angry client a good use of my time.”
The staring contest resumes until Marissa’s doorbell rings.
“Uh, saved by the bell, Mayer.”
I go get the door and come back to the living room with two bags filled with fruit, vegetables, and other healthy foods.
Marissa’s eyes widen. “What’s all that? I wasn’t expecting any deliveries.”
“I ordered you groceries and I’m preparing you lunch, just like I said.”
“It’s four in the afternoon.”
“Then we’ll call it an early dinner.” At her panicked expression, I add, “Don’t worry, I’m not inviting myself over. I already texted my mom. I’ll surprise Nora at her gym. I’ll cook and then be on my way. Consider me the help.”
Marissa looks at me like I’m a puzzle she can’t quite figure out.
“I’ll get started right away.” I lift the bags. “And be out of your way in a jiff.”
As I walk back into the kitchen, I hear her muffled, gritted comeback, “That’s your specialty.”
Yeah, definitely not out of the doghouse, but still making some headway if she’s allowing me to cook for her.
I put the groceries away and start chopping vegetables to make her a chicken and veggie soup.
Once it’s ready, I search the cabinets and find one of those breakfast-in-bed trays. I lay it with the bowl of soup, a spoon, and a glass of water, and bring it to Marissa.
She sits up on the couch and allows me to place the tray over her legs.
“There’s more in the pot if you’re still hungry afterward. Otherwise, put it in the fridge and it’ll also be good tomorrow.” From one of the grocery bags, I take out a packet of homemade granola bars the supermarket makes and drop it on the tray. “From now on, I want you to carry one of these wherever you go.”
After giving her a small smile, I’m about to go when she asks me, “What are we going to do?”
I know she’s not talking about meal plans. “When were you told to take the pregnancy test?”
“Two days from now.”
“Let’s wait and keep our fingers crossed.” I flash her a fish-eating grin.
“You’re not seriously hoping I’m pregnant? With your baby?”
