Page 64 of A Dream for Daphne

She opened the door. “You don’t need to do that,” she said.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “It’s my mess. I’m not as neat as you, but I won’t leave a trail of dirt places either. It will only take a minute.”

She seemed to hesitate and then went to the hall and came back with a bottle of cleaner. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive. I don’t need a woman to clean up after me.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you for that.”

It was the soft way that she said it that told him his mother was right—find the thing that means the most—and the chaos in Daphne’s life was something she needed to break free of.

22

MY FIRST GUEST

“You didn’t need to clean the tub,” she said when Abe walked into the kitchen five minutes later.

“I probably didn’t clean it as well as you, but I sprayed and wiped it down and then rinsed it. I know how dirty I am at the end of the day. My mother got me in the habit of spraying it down daily so that it doesn’t build up before I can scrub it on the weekends.”

She wouldn’t cringe over the fact he only cleaned his bathroom on the weekends.

She’d been in his house enough to know he was a pretty neat guy.

There was no buildup anywhere, no sticky substances, mold, or smells that didn’t belong.

Was there dust in the corner of the floor? Probably. It’s not like she went around with a pair of white gloves and she wouldn’t.

But she and Aster were so far in the other direction of how they were raised.

“I appreciate it,” she said. “I told you how it was growing up. It’s just this anxious thing with me now. I can handle toys beingout of place and clutter. It’s things like filth. And this place is so beautiful, I don’t want it to be anything else.”

“I know,” he said. “I get it. It saved me from going home to shower, but I wouldn’t leave it like I was rinsing off from a mud bath either.”

“You weren’t that dirty. Not sure why you make such a big deal about it,” she said closing one eye to look at him.

“Because you’ve seen me with red paint on my face among other things.”

“Good point,” she said. “Hungry?”

“I’m starving,” he said. “It smells good. What did you make?”

“Sausage and beef ragu and I will put it over cheese ravioli. It’s more of a winter meal, but it’s filling and I’m sure you burn a lot of calories. Plus it’s nice and cool in the house.”

“Sounds great to me,” he said. “Because, you know, as long as I’m not cooking. I even told Poppy and Reese that tonight. Not having to cook is a nice thing at the end of the day.”

“I don’t mind it,” she said. “Or I enjoy it. It’s cheaper and better for you than takeout. Sit. Do you want a beer? The ravioli is almost done. I started it when you were in the shower.”

“A beer sounds good,” he said. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

He stood up and moved to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed one out.

She’d paid attention to what he drank last time and made sure she had it in the house.

“I’m being a good host,” she said.

“Are you back to being nervous again?” he asked.

She inhaled and let out a breath. “Yes. This is so stupid.”

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