Page 53 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
Her expression shifted, her walls sliding back into place. “My ex had many talents. Cooking wasn’t one of them.”
I let it drop, sensing the conversation had ventured into territory she wasn’t ready to explore.
“I’m glad you enjoy my food. It warms my heart.”
“You make heartwarming food. Never stop doing this. I mean…” she stuttered, “I don’t mean for me I mean period.”
“As long as you allow me to cook for you that’s what I’ll do.”
We eyed each other across the table, and she blushed.
“Would you like some wine?”
“Yes.”
I left the table to retrieve wine, when I returned Naomi had all but cleaned her plate.
“You really do like my food.”
She laughed. “I told you, and that long flight had a sista hungry.”
Laughter jolted from me. “I understand.” I poured her a glass of wine then filled my glass halfway, lifting my glass. “To us, and the friendship we’ve built and what we continue to build.”
She hesitated but lifted her glass and we clinked. I watched her watch me as we sipped and a blush darkened her cheeks.
“This is divine.”
“I agree.”
She took another long sip, and I reached for her hand.
“Come with me.”
I led her through olive groves that rustled softly in the evening breeze. The lake wasn’t far, and I’d had wood stacked beside the fire pit that morning.
“You planned this,” Naomi said as I lit the fire.
“I hoped for this.”
The flames ignited quickly, casting warm light across the sandy shore. Cushions and blankets were arranged in a circle, creating an impromptu outdoor living room beside the water that reflected stars like scattered diamonds.
Naomi settled onto the cushions with a sigh. “I can’t remember the last time I just sat and watched a fire.”
“When you were a kid?”
“Maybe. My dad used to build fires when we went camping. He’d tell stories until I fell asleep.” Her expression softened. “He was good at making ordinary moments feel special.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“The best. He deserves better than fighting bureaucrats for a decent wheelchair.”
I moved closer on the cushions, our shoulders touching. “You’re taking care of that?”
“Yes. Money solves most problems, but it can’t solve the indignity of having to prove you’ve earned something you’ve already earned.”
“Your father would be proud of what you’ve built.”
“I hope so. Sometimes I wonder what he really thinks about my business.”
