Page 64 of Spotlight
“There’s no scenario in which I’m going to be able to eat all that in the next day or two.”
“I’m staying,” he says and goes back into my kitchen, looking somehow at home and completely out of place in the small space.
“You are?” I ask, then add, “She might be contagious.”
“If she is, then you are, and I’m already screwed.”
“I’m not going to be much fun to hang out with.”
My basic plan for the night was to hover nearby, checking on Greer every few minutes to make sure she’s breathing, until I passed out on the couch.
“I know. Pretend I’m not here.”
“You want me to pretend you’re not here?” I repeat his words in the form of a question.
“Mhmm.”
“Unlikely.”
“Because I’m so handsome?” His playful side is back, and it relaxes some of the tension I’m holding.
Every scrape, bump, sickness leaves me emotionally wrung out. From the moment it happens until she’s back to feeling better, it consumes me. I don’t know if that’s healthy or not, but she’s depending on me, and that is a responsibility I don’t take lightly.
Instead of answering him, I smile and take a seat at one of the barstools in front of him.
He slides the take-out containers into a line in front of me. “What sounds good?”
I reach for the pizza box.
“Really?” he asks, grinning wide. “I had you pegged for a noodles or salad kind of woman.”
I flip open the box and the smell of cheese and bread wafts around me. My stomach growls.
“Plates?” he asks, looking around.
I direct him, and Flynn moves around my kitchen, getting plates and napkins. He even fills glasses with water. I can’t remember the last time someone not related to me did something simple for me, like serve me food.
He sits next to me, and we fall quiet while we eat pizza.
“When you said you were into gardening, I was imagining a yard filled with flowers and a little vegetable garden,” he notes as he reaches for a second slice. “This is cool though. You brought them indoors. It has a whole greenhouse vibe in here.”
I glance around, trying to see the apartment and greenery with fresh eyes. “I’d love to have a real garden someday, but for now this is more practical.”
“How’d you get into it?”
“My mom.”
“You’re close then?”
I nod.
“Does she live nearby?”
“Sort of.” I explain to him about the chef positions my parents took on a cruise ship and not being certain when or if they’ll come back.
“That’s awesome,” he says. “I’m sorry you don’t get to see them more though.”
“Yeah, I miss them, but they’re having a blast. How is it living near your brothers again?”
