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She wasted no time wrapping her arms around me and engulfing me in a big hug. “I’ve been so on edge all day thinking you were going to back out.”
I squeezed her as hard as she was squeezing me. “I almost did a dozen times on that train. But I just couldn’t.”
Hazel pulled back and looked into my eyes. “I’m glad.”
I brushed a piece of hair from her face. “Yeah, me, too.”
She took a deep breath. “Come on. I have something in the oven, and when I left I couldn’t find Abbott to put her in her cage. She likes to hide sometimes.”
I smiled. “That’s right. I get to meet Abbott the Rabbit.”
“You do. And if you’re lucky, I’ll let you hold the leash when we take her for a walk. It’s just about the time I take her for her evening stroll before she goes to bed.”
The ride to Hazel’s house was only about ten minutes. I’d expected it to be awkward like the other day in her studio, but we’d spent half of the time we’d known each other in a car, and somehow sitting next to her just felt right again. I almost didn’t want to get out when we pulled up in front of her house.
“This is me.” She pointed to a small, white, Cape-style house on a street with a shitload of tall trees. The neighborhood was quiet and well kept and reminded me a lot of where I lived, actually.
“This looks like the suburbs of Seattle.”
“Does it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I live in an apartment, but the houses and streets are similar.”
“It’s tiny. But we never had more than two bedrooms growing up, so I think I’d feel lost in a big house.”
I loved that she didn’t need a lot of flash. And as we walked up the driveway toward her front door, it made me think about how different she was than Brady. Brady’s family had some money, and if you were friends with him, you knew that. He didn’t come right out and say it in a pompous way, but you could see it in the things he’d waste money on—a hundred bucks for a wool hat just because it had some logo on it or how he always had the most recent iPhone, even though there was nothing wrong with his old one. I hadn’t been surprised that his apartment was in a building with a doorman, either. The whole scene was just him—guy in a suit opening the door as he approached, sleek-looking stainless steel in the kitchen, and marble in the bathroom. I couldn’t see Brady living in something understated like this.
Inside Hazel’s house, I looked around. The first room we walked into was the living room, and it led to the kitchen behind it. Hazel made a beeline to the stove, and I followed her into the kitchen.
“Mmm… It smells great in here. Is that brownies?”
“Yup.”
My eyes went wide as I stepped into the kitchen. The counters were lined with goodies. There was a plate of what looked like chocolate chip cookies, a plate of Rice Krispies treats, cupcakes frosted in vanilla, and a whole cake frosted in chocolate—not to mention the pan of hot brownies Hazel was currently removing from the oven. “Did you make all of this?”
Hazel set the glass baking dish on top of the stove and bit her bottom lip. “Yeah. I…I’m not good at sitting still when I’m nervous, so I figured I’d make you a snack or two for when you got here.” She looked around. “I sort of got carried away.”
I smiled. Glancing around, I noticed her kitchen was pretty simple—basic white appliances and store brands, nothing over the top like Brady’s place.
“Where were you going to live after…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question.
“I was going to move to the City, into Brady’s apartment.”
I didn’t see any hint of disappointment about that not happening in her face. “Is that where you want to live? In the City?”
She shrugged. “I’m not really a city girl. It’s funny. I love an adventure, but I want my home to be my calm place. I guess I don’t find the City that never sleeps very soothing.”
I tilted my head. “So why would you have agreed to move there if you didn’t really want to live in Manhattan?”
She tugged off the oven mitts and sighed. “I don’t know. Compromise, I guess.”
My lip twitched. “You do know a compromise is one person giving a little and the other person giving a little, right?”
Squinting at me, she reached over and picked up the plate with the cake. She balanced it in one hand. “Hmmm… I feel like hitting you in the face with this cake. Should we compromise on that? Maybe you’d prefer a cupcake, wiseass.”
I put my hands up like I was surrendering, and she laughed and set the cake back down. But the minute it was on the table, I scooped out a huge chunk and held it up like I was going to smear it on her face.
