“Well, I thought the moment my textbooks got delivered would be a great time.” He looks like he’s ashamed, while I couldn’t be more proud of him, even if I would’ve liked to know a little more about it before now. I hug him in the middle of the aisle with soda, because hey, that’s as good a place as any.
“I’m so proud of you,” I tell him as I squeeze him.
He hugs me back and to my surprise his cheeks have turned a little red as well. “Then you’re going to love this, because I’ve made an appointment with a therapist as well. Work through some of the stuff that went on with Celia.”
I squeal. Loudly. People are looking over what’s going on. I compose myself again and scrape my throat. “You’re doing so good, sweetie. I’m so, so, proud. And I hope it helps.”
“Same,” he says, and he starts pushing the shopping cart forward again.
“Hey, you there,” Mister Wallace says. He’s one of those weird people in town who most people ignore. Whenever there’s a tree to be taken down, he’s there with a banner advocating for the tree to stay where it is. Usually, I don’t interact with him and that works out perfectly for the both of us. “I just wanted to tell you guys that I’m all for your little relationship. Love is love, right? Reminds me of the seventies.”
And I… don’t know how to respond to that. So I nod, smile and make O walk along. We need to get out of here, pronto.
We came home with a weird assortment of groceries. We just threw stuff in and made sure we got out of there as quickly as we could. Now, we’re presenting Dean with some kind of Masterchef Mystery Box challenge, because he is trying to figure out how to make something with steak, figs, chocolate, tagliatelle, cooking creme, broccoli and eggplant. It is entertaining though, so perhaps we should do it more often.
I’m hovering in the kitchen, drinking a glass of rum and coke that Gil made me after we told them about the encounter with Jonah’s mom. Jonah isn’t home yet, and I’m dreading the moment he will. I wanted to be done with this shit, but instead, we’re up to our necks in it.
I climb on a free space of counter and cross my legs as I observe Dean. “How’s it going?”
“Well, we’re having a creative dinner, that’s for sure.” He looks like someone who’s trying to figure out a difficult math equation.
I chuckle. “Sorry, we just grabbed stuff.”
“Couldn’t have grabbed some potatoes or something, then this would’ve been a doozy.”
“Nope, we’re not street smart like you.”
He grins, grabs the eggplant and puts it directly on the open fire.
“What the hell are you doing?” I say in shock.
“I’m charring the eggplant.”
“What has the poor thing ever done to you?”
He chuckles. “It’ll be delicious. Trust me.”
I watch him work, staring a little at his jeans clad ass and his simple white tee that makes it very easy to ogle the way he fills it out. He looks content, and I wonder if he really is. Since I’ve still not mastered the art of reading minds, I think I just have to ask him. So I take a sip of liquid courage and go for it.
“Are you still happy with our arrangement?” I blurt.
“With sharing you, you mean?”
“No, I know you’re okay with that part. With the being in a relationship part. You were reluctant to give love another try.”
He grabs the broccoli and starts chopping it up while he takes a moment to think my question through. “It doesn’t feel that different, you know? I mean, yeah, we’ve given it a label, but I don’t feel like I’m trapped in some sort of relationship which will inevitably lead to heartbreak.”
I just nod, letting a silence do the talking for me. He fills some pots with water and sets them on the stove as he continues.
“But…” Oh god, there’s a but. I’m dreading the but. “I must admit that it feels nice to open myself up for love again. I guess you were right that I was missing out.”
This isn’t a bad but. This is a very good but. I climb off the counter and hug Dean’s ass. “You’re making dinner, you tell me I’m right, your ass looks amazing and you haven’t slept with Cherry. Damn sure you’re my favorite ever,” I tell him. He laughs out loud. I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss his cheek. “Oh, and I love you too.”
He twirls around, and when I look into his blue eyes all I see is love. I’ve really hit the jackpot with him. He dips his head and kisses my forehead.
“So, uh, I wanted to ask you something,” I say, feeling a little self conscious. I take a step back to look him in the eye. He takes the eggplant off the fire with some tongs and shuts the gas before he seats himself on the kitchen counter, looking down on me.
“What’d you want to ask?”