“And there it is.” I mumble outed by a seven-year-old who doesn’t know any better.
“Huh. The phone.” Lavender shakes her head like that’s the worst thing I could have done. I don’t bother explaining and snatch my phone back from Hannah sticking it in my dress pocket.
Knocking at the door saves me with a full-blown commotion before I can answer it. Marley starts barking like crazy and wiggling between my legs. I push him back into Lavender’s hold and scramble to unlock the door barefoot in my dress.
“Marley!” All four of us yell at the dog who escapes the second I crack the door open.
Our thieving neighbor shouts, “That’s my food!”
Marley tries to chase the delivery guy who runs down the stairs uninterested in which door he left the food.
“Hey!” I yell into the hallway grabbing the dog by his scruff. Mr. Totter has stolen my dinner, the grouchy jerk slams his door shut and I hear him slid the chain lock in place. As if I’d do anything more besides cry a little. Marley looks pleased after almost getting a chunk out of the delivery guy. My phone rings. Marley licks my face and I think I understand a little better why animals try escaping the moment you open the door to freedom. What I wouldn’t give for a tiny bit of freedom right now, but that’s not happening.
“Come on buddy.” I bring him inside and answer Van’s call.
“I got the text confirmation of delivery, are you ready?” His excitement is palatable through the phone and sweet.
I wince hating that I’m about to ruin the moment.
“Yeah, about dinner…”
12
Van
“I can’t believe that happened.” Laurel recounts the whole episode and I imagine her trying to wrangle the dog, the door, and the neighbor in one shot.
I start laughing and then I can’t stop. It’s like the universe has conspired against us from the beginning and I’ll be damned if I let it win. Nope. Sorry. Try again because this girl is mine and I’m not giving her back. Even if I have to wait a hundred days more and another hundred after that. I feel committed to this moment entirely, to her, and this burgeoning relationship I never expected. I don’t want to miss out on anything with her.
“Are you laughing? Seriously, Van? I’ve had my dinner pilfered by a man in his eighties and Marley came close to committing murder.” Images of the small yapping dog make me snort attempting to hold back my laughter. I want to ask if he made a contact bite, but I don’t think this is the time for that.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, but this whole thing is honestly hilarious. Let me call in another order.” My eyes tear up and I’m wiping my face. I swear I see her lips curve upward, but she’s trying hard to remain so serious.
“After what I just went through? No. I’ll burn my cheap frozen pizza in the oven and drink my sister’s stash of stolen airport bottles of liquor. I thought Marley was going to run out of the building.”
“Terrible, I agree.” I’m nodding and clutching my stomach to keep the laughter in. She looks forlorn on the face time call and all I want to do is hold her and kiss her and shower her with everything I have.
“Alright, you eat whatever and I’ll make something quick.” She props me up in the kitchen against the wall and I’m treated to watching her float around the tight space before hunting in her freezer for the frozen pizza. Her dress skims the back of her legs and I’m adjusting myself out of view.
I swipe an app on my phone and order a delivery of a dozen cupcakes making sure I tip them exorbitantly. I realize it’s extravagant sending multiple delivery people to her door in the midst of a citywide shutdown, but I can’t stomach whatever she’s about to put in the over from a box.
“So what’s for dinner honey?” I ask trying to decipher her attempt at cooking.
“No pizza. My sister must have given it to my niece so it’s garlic bread for me and it looks like red wine and gin.” She holds up two small bottles clinking them together.
“Not at the same time I hope?” I don’t want her to get sick.
“Maybe just the wine then.”
Since my meal is already prepared, I wait for hers to bake. Sure enough twelve minutes later she’s waving a dish towel and clearing out a smoky kitchen. Her garlic bread looks a little chard on one side, but she assures me it’s edible. I don’t believe it.
She stops eating to look at me through the phone. “Why is my door buzzing?” I shrug and wait for her to answer. I hear her yell my name through the phone half angry and half happy. I’ll take it.
“What did you do?”
“Sent dessert over?”
“Van, these are adorable.” She shows me the inside of the box and sure enough a dozen cupcakes topped with fondant rolls of smiling toilet paper are there.