Page 25 of Feels Like Home
"Cheers." Court lifts his glass to mine and smiles. "I owe you big-time for this."
"You cooked dinner. Consider us even."
He takes a sip of Merlot, his eyes never leaving me. "I owe you," he repeats. "I won't ever forget you did this for me. It's well above and beyond best friend duties."
I roll my eyes and pick up my knife and fork.
Court chuckles.
"What's so funny?" I ask.
"You won't need utensils for this meal. Here." He picks up a piece of flatbread from the basket in the middle of the table. "This is called chapati. You use it to scoop up the stew."
"Right. And you just happened to pick up somechapatifrom the general store here in Clovelly?"
Court grins, shaking his head. "No. I picked it up when I was back in Boston." He points to the basket. "Try it."
I pick one up and gather up some chicken and veggies on it. "It's like a really big nacho."
Court chuckles. "Sort of, I guess."
The chicken stew he made and the chapati he bought are both delicious. "This tastes incredible," I say, getting the hang of this whole oversized nacho dipping experience.
"Thanks. It's not as good as the kuku stew in Nairobi, but it's not too bad for my first attempt."
He showed up this afternoon with three large suitcases…and that was it. He's rented out his condo in Boston, so all he brought with him was clothes.
"You know," I say, carefully loading up my chapati. "We can go furniture shopping and get some stuff to make this place feel more like your home."
"That's sweet, but unnecessary."
"You sure? I think Howie's created a crater in the sofa. There's also a good chance his smelly farts have seeped into the fabric."
Court grins. "I'm sure. But thanks."
"Let me know if you change your mind."
We eat in silence for a while until Court brings up a topic I knew was inevitable but was hoping to put off for as long as possible.
My ex.
"You ready to tell me what happened with you and Cameron?"
"Like I said, the usual thing. He said I was too needy."
"Those were his exact words?"
I blow out a heavy breath. "No. His exact words were, 'I want a boyfriend, not an emotional support animal.'"
The muscle in Court's jaw throbs. "What a fucking turd. I never liked him anyway." Our eyes meet, and Court tones it down a bit, asking softly, "Why do I get the feeling there's more to it than that?"
Because he knows me better than anyone else in the world, that's why.
I swish some wine around in my mouth then swallow. "I may have scared him off when I brought up wanting to have kids."
"I didn't know that was something you wanted."
"I don't want to be an old dad. I'm thirty-one, Court. Time is ticking."
