“Yes.” Even cool, the food was an inviting array of holiday fragrances. Thyme and sage and butter.
“Um. Okay. I’m the director of student affairs for the Montana Conservation Society. I work mostly with teenagers, but I’ve also spearheaded a recent and very important recycling campaign with a local apartment complex.”
He punched the buttons on the microwave—first removing a small plastic container of cranberry sauce thoughtfully included “on the side.”
“One of many,” Mimi added.
“You’re as passionate as I remember.” He pulled two forks from a drawer and laid them on the island.
“Is that a nice way of saying I’m misguided?”
“Not at all. The world needs more advocates like you.”
Her mouth was frozen in a half gape, like she was shocked he’d paid her a compliment. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They stood on opposite sides of the island—what a metaphor for how they’d left things—in silence as the remainder of the seconds ticked down on the microwave before it beeped. He set the containers between him and Mimi, grabbed an open bottle of wine and two glasses and poured himself one.
She placed a finger on the neck of the bottle when he tipped it toward her glass. “I’m leaving.”
“I can’t let you do that.” He poured the wine anyway and set the glass in front of her. She frowned. He offered her a fork. She shook her head.
“I ate already. This is for you.”
Chase locked eyes with the woman who used to love him, with the woman he’d nearly loved more than his own common sense. “Thank you.”
He dug in, scooping a bite of turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing, dunking the fork into the cranberry sauce before closing his eyes and savoring the flavors of a slow-cooked, took-all-day-to-make meal. Before he meant to, he moaned his approval.
Without another glance in her direction, he unapologetically took another big bite.