I love Kate and love seeing her.
Yes, an intimate gathering is just the thing…
It also won’t kill Duke for one evening. We’ll keep it short and sweet.
I let the curtain in my room drop, worrying my bottom lip, debating about how I’m supposed to tell him he can’t show his face while I have guests. The one thing Eli and Molly said nothing about was me, personally, having to restrict my own life to accommodate him, so I’m going to assume I’m “allowed” to have company.
It's my damn house!
Well, technically, it’s Molly’s. After she and Eli began dating for a few months, they began the discussion about moving in together, and a few months later…. Bam. She moved into his place downtown, his swanky penthouse apartment, complete with a doorman and bellhops and a concierge.
She’s living her best life…
Once I’m dressed, I head back downstairs to fuss with the food, laying out the trays (two small ones), dip, and set wineglasses out for five. Kate is bringing Paul, Anna is bringing Nyle, and I’m…
Single.
As usual.
My last boyfriend was a business student studying for his MBA who thought dating would stand in the way of his career. He was the kind of guy who “wanted to be more established, so I have more to offer a woman.”
What a load of crap.
That relationship lasted all of eight months.
Sighing, I resume putzing with the food, happily moving the cheese to one side, the thinly sliced prosciutto to another, adding olives, pistachios, and dried apricots. Water crackers. Tiny pretzel twists.
Hungry, I pop a grape in my mouth, gently laying a bunch on one side, draping more in the middle, dropping single grapes around the landscape. I do the same with the almonds, filling gaps.
Lastly, I add a block of honeycomb—my favorite part, which I’ll be nomming on while the five of us chatter, dipping the almonds into the sweet, golden nectar.
Muah! Chef’s kiss.
Duke lumbers down the middle of the yard, looking a lot like a lumberjack than a football player, rounding the corner to the detached garage with tools in his hands.
He reemerges with his hands free.
I watch intently when he bends at the waist, spins the water spicket, and washes his palms under the cold spray before the water squeaks off and he wipes his hands on the thighs of his jeans.
And what thighs they are…
“I have something I need to discuss with you.” I begin as soon as he walks through the kitchen door, shielding my newly assembled snacks, terrified he’s going to eat half of it and mess the whole thing up.
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess, you added more rules to the list.” He thinks he’s real funny and clever.
“Wrong. Not even close.” I clear my throat, bracing myself. “I need you to stay in your room tonight.”
“Why. You got a date or something?”
You got a date or sumthin’?
Ugh, why do I find that stupid accent charming and delightful?!
“I’m having a few friends over. Just four, but since you’re not supposed to be drawing attention to yourself, it’s best if you don’t make an appearance. I don’t know Paul and Nyle that well—not sure if they can be trusted.”
“Who are Paul and Nyle?” His eyes are firmly planted on my charcuterie board.
I lean over my tray using my entire body. “Stop staring at this food.”