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“Give me that!” I dove for my phone and snatched it back from her. Izzy picked up a napkin and shook it out.
“These are too lightweight to fold into swans. You need the thick cotton ones.”
“Aw, man, shut up.”
We both broke out laughing, and the tension in my chest eased off. I leaned on the counter, shaking my head.
“I wanted to do something nice for you. To show you, uh…” It still felt too early to spill how I felt. The mood was all wrong, too silly. Too light. “You’ve been working so hard, and I thought you could use this. A nice meal you don’t have to cook for yourself.”
“Well, it smells great,” Izzy said. “And the table looks perfect. Let me help you dish up, and then?—”
“No! No, I’ll do it.” I blocked her path to the kitchen. “You just sit down, just relax and enjoy it.”
Izzy sat, and I set about serving the meal, spooning out pasta, then ladles of sauce. I’d made her this vegan sauce off Leon’s menu, which I remembered her loving when he’d let us try it. The salad, as well, was just how she liked it, baby arugula, fresh grape tomatoes. Balsamic dressing with a kiss of white pepper. I set our plates on the table, then poured our wine. Izzy took a long sip of hers and let her eyes flutter shut.
“Oh, yeah. I needed this.”
I cocked a brow. “Long day?”
She dug into her pasta. “Yeah, but in a good way. I had that interview, the one I told you about, and it went great. She loved me. I think I might get it. I mean, you never know — she has to talk to her partners. But… oh, my God.” She moaned around a mouthful of spaghetti. “This is so good. You really made this?”
I frowned, slightly wounded. “That so hard to believe?”
“I’ve literally never, not once, seen you cook.”
“What are you talking about? You stole my breakfast this morning. I’d just fried some bacon, and you came and snaked it.”
“But that’s not real cooking. That’s bacon, that’s…”
“How is bacon not cooking? It’s food off the stove.”
Izzy launched into this great cooking spiel, how bacon isn’t cooking because there’s no recipe, because it’s just one ingredient you throw in the pan. All my food was that way, according to her — ham, scrambled eggs, anything off the grill. None of it counted as actual cooking.
I rolled my eyes at her and told her she was crazy, but this wasn’t going at all how I’d planned it. It was supposed to be Hollywood romantic, but our dumb best-friend vibe kept getting in the way. Which sucked, because that was why we were so perfect — because we could laugh. Because we could goof off. And then I could hold her close through the night, and tell her how great she was, and she deserved to be happy.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, so I was thinking?—”
“Oh! That reminds me.” Izzy set down her fork. “I saw this apartment downtown, near my new job. If I get it, that is. Ugh, knock on wood.” She rapped on the table.
“You’ll get it,” I said. “But, wait. An apartment?” I couldn’t feel my own heartbeat, or my breath in my lungs. Izzy was leaving? Was it… was it us?
“Yeah, it’s so nice. The light’s amazing. Especially the living room — floor-to-ceiling windows.” She gestured at our own back wall and the big sliding doors. “And I know, I know, I don’t have the job yet. I’m probably jinxing it, but it just felt so right. I could start my next phase there. This whole adult life.”
“We’re adults,” I said, my voice rough with hurt. Izzy didn’t seem to notice, caught up in her plans.
“Exactly, we’re adults, but we’re still stuck in college. Leon was my actual college roommate. It’s like I hit pause the second I walked off that campus, and I’ve been living since then like I’m still twenty-four.”
I tried to gulp from my wine, but I’d emptied my glass. “I’d miss you,” I said, the words tumbling out. “Seeing your face every morning.”
“Stealing your bacon?”
“I’d cook you bacon.” I stood up abruptly. “I’d be, not your roommate. Your live-in butler.”
Izzy laughed, and she got up and took our plates to the sink. “Would you fold my clothes too?”
“If you wanted, I would.” I came up behind her and slid my arms around her, and pressed my lips to the nape of her neck. I was done fooling around. I needed her near me. Needed to feel her skin against mine. “There’s dessert, too,” I said, for something to say. “Pie in the fridge.”
“Mm, pie sounds good.” Izzy turned in my arms and set her hands on my shoulders. She pulled me down and kissed me, then kissed me again. This was my moment, gentle, romantic, candlelight sparkling in Izzy’s dark eyes. I could lay out my case to her. Don’t go. I need you. Let’s do this for real, us. You and me.
