Page 86 of The ABCs of You & Me

“So, what are you going to make me?”

“Whatever you want, sunshine.”

“French onion soup,” she says as if it’s a challenge.

“Done.”

“Coq au vin.”

“Easy.”

“Boeuf Bourguignon.”

I glance over to see her grinning back.

“I’ve seen that movie with Meryl Streep. I know what it is, but my French is très terrible.”

Dare I say I found something Sophie is not good at? Although even hearing her butcher the French language is a bit of a turn-on. Perfectly imperfect.

At the last sale we stop at, conveniently around the corner from my apartment, Sophie findsLord of the Ringsplacemats and buys them. My heart skips several beats when she says our meals will taste even better with them on the table. At least that’s what I think she said. I’m stuck on how she brought up collective meals, plural.

Once at my place, we each open our food delivery apps, pick a cuisine, scroll once, and where our finger stops the page, that’s what we order. I landed on a barbecue place and then picked pork with baked beans and mac and cheese. I have no clue what Sophie got because she refuses to tell me.

While we wait, we scroll through all the streaming services until we find a movie that some may call junk, but we’ve decided to call a guilty pleasure.

“I think we’re starting to play a bit fast and loose with the alphabet now,” Sophie says as she sets her bag of takeout on the counter.

“Is that sushi?” I ask, surprised.

“It is, and three of the kinds I’ve never even had before. You’re rubbing off on me, Mr. Walsh.” The minute the words leave her mouth, I see them register. “Oh, no, well, shit. That’s not… Can we maybe just forget I said that?”

“Absolutely not,” I tease. “That’s getting filed up here for later.” I tap my head and wink.

“Oh my god, Foster, ew!” She cringes before covering her face, her body shaking with silent laughter.

Sophie, completely uninhibited, laughing in my kitchen, surrounded by takeout. I can’t believe this is my life.

THIRTY-SIX

SOPHIE

Foster is groaning on the couch next to me. His long legs stretched out on the floor while his hands rest on his stomach.

“Why’d I eat the second bowl of mac and cheese?”

“Because it was delicious?” I reply from my spot on the couch.

“It was really good,” he agrees, grinning over at me.

I try to sit up only to flop back. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to move again.”

“You’ll have to live here with me.”

“I don’t think there’s enough room on this couch for the two of us to live on,” I tease.

He looks over and then down at the couch. “Well maybe if I just”—he bends forward, grabs my legs, and in one fluid motion has me flat on my back across the couch—“then…” He mirrors my position except he’s so tall that his feet are right at my mouth.

Looking down at his toes, I crinkle my nose. “Not the most ideal position.”

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