“Because you’re doing a wonderful job, and I’m grateful.”
Chicken shit.
“You make it easy, really.” She says. “Especially since it’s just a simple clean-out.” Nova brings her fingers to her lips. “I didn’t mean it was simple, your situation. I meant I don’t have to do a bunch of sorting—”
“Nova,” I interrupt her, wanting so much to pull her close to me, to let her know that she’s done more for me in one afternoon than any therapist I’ve ever seen since the accident. “It’s okay. I understand what you mean, and I’m not offended. In fact, I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”
She gazes up at me through thick, dark lashes. “Really?”
“Really,” I say, and before I do anything stupid, I turn toward the kitchen. “Now, let me show you how grateful I am by feeding you a delicious dinner.”
“I can’t turn down good food.” She follows me to the kitchen and plants herself on a counter stool while I begin preparations. I set the bottle of wine and the opener in front of her and let her do the honors. She pours us two glasses of red, and we both raise our glasses.
“What are we toasting to?” She asks, a huge smile plastered on her face.
“What do you want to toast to?” I tease, hoping she’ll announce some sort of feelings back toward me so that I don’t have to be the one to take a big risk.
“New beginnings.” She says, then her face grows comically serious. “Fuck the past. Let’s look to the future.”
“I like that toast,” I say, and we clink glasses. That’s exactly my plan.