Her hand goes to her hip as she stares at the refrigerator contents. “Ah. Well, you have little else here.”
“Don’t really know how to cook,” I say. “I eat out most of the time.”
She closes the door and turns to look at me. Her eyes roam my arms. “How do you stay fit if you only eat out?”
I shrug. “Lucky, I guess? I mean, I work out but don’t pay attention to diet.”
“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully. “The fridge is pretty clean. I guess I’m done unless you want me to make you some breakfast?” she asks hopefully. “I could do your shopping for you, then come back and whip something up.”
I smile. She wants to extend our time together too. “You know how to cook?” I ask her.
She nods. “A little. I’m okay. Ileana’s been trying to teach me.Sheis amazing. Her food is magic. I swear she needs to open up a Mexican restaurant.”
“I love Mexican food. I’d love to try her cooking sometime.”
Lola smiles. “Maybe I’ll invite you over for dinner one of these days.”
I like this. I’m not the only one needing excuses for us to see each other again.
“Let’s go to the grocery store, then,” I say, getting up from my seat at the counter.
Her head tilts to the side. “You don’t have to go with me. You’re paying me for my time, remember?”
I scratch my jaw. “Right. But . . . I’m bored. And honestly, I can’t remember the last time I was inside a grocery store—”
Lola’s laugh cuts me off.
“What?” I ask, amused.
“Your lifestyle, it’s . . . straight out of a movie.”
“Speaking of, mind if we take your car? Mine is easily identifiable by the paps.”
Lola agrees happily, and after tucking all my hair under the baseball cap and putting on my aviator glasses, we head out. We walk down the driveway and get to a shit-brown Suzuki sedan that is older than Lola, by the looks of it. I frown. This car isn’t safe for her.
“I don’t need to upgrade my car when I’m moving so soon,” she says, reading my thoughts. “Besides. This baby and I have been through a lot of shit together. I love her,” she says and rubs the car roof lovingly.
I sigh and get inside.
* * *
Lola picksout the fruit carefully, weighing each item in her hands and bringing it to her nose to smell before adding it to a bag. I’m mesmerized as I watch her, and I’m glad I’m wearing the sunglasses even inside the store. I pretend to look at items and instead stare at her. Why does she have to have a boyfriend? I’m sure if she didn’t, she would have agreed to pretend to be my girlfriend when I asked.
She adds four limes to a bag as she says, “How’s Sandy?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. The last time I saw her was the last time you did.”
Her eyes find mine. “Oh, I thought . . .”
“No. I doubt I’ll see her again,” I say, surprising even myself. When exactly did I decide Sandy was part of my past and no longer part of my present?The moment Lola socked you in the jaw, you idiot, a little voice inside me answers.
“That’s too bad,” Lola says and pushes the cart away from the produce area. “She seemed nice.”
“She is. But for someone else.”
We stroll slowly through the aisles, and I know we’re both dragging our feet to stretch our time together as much as possible. It’s everything I can do to wipe the smile from my face.
“So, what would you like for breakfast?”