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“Sure.”
I grab the plates and set the table. After a few minutes, Jodie sets down the plate of tuna in the middle along with the bowl of vegetables. She takes the mashed potatoes out of the oven and I bring them to the table.
Jodie removes her apron before sitting down. “Bon appetit!”
“Buon appetito,” I answer.
She grins. “Sometimes I forget you’re Italian.”
“A quarter Italian,” I correct her.
I barely know the language.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t cook pasta to go with the tuna,” Jodie says. “I bet you only eat pasta that’s made from scratch.”
I shrug. “Frankly, I can’t tell the difference.”
She chuckles.
I let her get some food on her plate first, then I do the same. As we eat, I can’t help but watch her. She said she’s hungry and yet she’s eating so daintily, cutting her tuna without using much force and cutting her beans, too, eating a portion at a time. She never puts too much mashed potato on her spoon, either.
What intrigues me most is how normal she’s acting. Wasn’t she put off by the things I said earlier? Has she forgotten about them? Or maybe she’s just ignoring them.
Good. It was a silly outburst anyway.
Or so I think until Jodie speaks.
“About what you said earlier, I’m sorry. I think maybe I have a hard time seeing you as a grownup because I spent more time with the kid version of you.”
What?
“And maybe I’ve been avoiding looking at you because you remind me of Antonio,” she adds. “You remind me of what he would have looked like if… he were still around.”
I nod. I thought so.
She shrugs. “But hey, you’re you and you’re here. It was wrong of me to disregard that, so I’m sorry.”
An apology? That’s even more surprising.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I understand.”
“And thank you for helping me,” she adds. “God knows I tried to push you away. I even ran away from you but you’re still here, helping me. So thanks.”
First an apology. Now, gratitude? Has the world gone off its rocker or something?
I grab my glass of water. “No worries.”
I take a sip. She smiles and slices her tuna.
“So how did that meeting at work go? It seemed pretty quick.”
“I was with my father, actually,” I confide in her as I set down my glass.
I’m hiding things from my dad. I can’t hide things from her, too.
“And?” She looks at me with arched eyebrows.
“Relax. I didn’t tell him that we were investigating your father’s murder.” I shove a piece of tuna inside my mouth. “It doesn’t seem like he knows.”
“And did he say anything about his own investigation?” Jodie asks.
I gobble up a heap of mashed potatoes next. “Nothing.”
“I see. Why did he want to see you, then?”
I look at her. “Would you believe he just wanted to make sure I wasn’t putting frogs in your bath?”
Jodie’s eyes grow wide. “Really?”
“I guess you’re not the only one who thinks I’m five.”
She chuckles, then turns serious as she holds up her knife. “I’m warning you, Leonardo Ursini, if you ever do such a thing, I’m going to kill you.”
I lift my shoulders. “I’m not, okay? I swear.”
She puts her knife down. I shake my head.
“You’re crazy.”
“What? You’ve never had a woman point a knife at you before?” Jodie asks in a playful tone.
“No.”
“How many women have you been with, anyway?” Her question sounds more serious this time.
I narrow my gaze at her. “Why do you want to know?”
She shrugs. “You wanted to talk like grown-ups, didn’t you?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.”
I wait for her to tease me or scold me, but she just nods.
“I haven’t been sleeping around lately.” I feel the need to add. “That was mostly when I was younger, when I was still trying to find my way.”
Frankly, I don’t remember most of them.
“Were you serious about any of them?” Jodie asks me next.
“You mean did I want any of them to be my girlfriend? No. But I always took them seriously, did my best to give them a good time for however long that lasted.”
“And how long does it usually last?”
“I can go on for hours when I’m not drunk,” I answer.
But it depends on the woman.
Jodie falls silent as she drinks her water. Her cheeks look pink.
Hey, she was the one who asking the questions.
“What about you?” I ask her. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“No,” she answers softly as she sets her glass down.
Wait a sec. This feels like deja vu. I asked her the same question at that party and she answered the same thing. Well, I guess some things don’t change.
“But you’ve been with a man, right? Before me?”
She gives me a puzzled look. “You could tell?”
“You were bossing me around,” I remind her.
Her eyebrows furrow even more.
“You don’t remember, do you?” I shake my head. “Wow.”
