Page 51 of A Me and Him Thing
His smile fades, and he looks down for a moment. He must sense that I’m upset. “Can I come in?”
I open the door wider and take a step back. I don’t say anything more. Regardless, he takes my actions as the yes I mean them to be.
He walks to the kitchen, sets down his bag of groceries, and begins removing the items one by one. “I make the best chicken noodle soup you’ve ever had in your life. You’re going to love it and beg for more.”
I plop down on the couch and hold Mandy to my chest. She doesn’t object. I watch Ren move about my kitchen. He’s a man on a mission.
He pauses, studying me. “I see you and your archnemesis have become friends.”
“She liked me all along. It was just a well-kept secret.”
He nods. “What’s wrong with you?”
Everything.“I’m not feeling well.”
“Is it a cold? Stomach flu?”
“No.” I appreciate that he doesn’t ask if it’s endo pain, even though he knows it knocks me flat on a monthly basis.
“Whatever it is, chicken soup will do the trick. You’ll be running five miles by tomorrow.”
I wish it were that easy.
Ren opens my refrigerator door, as comfortable in my home as he is in his own. “Seriously, Bree?” He stares at the basically empty shelves with a frown.
“I told you I don’t cook. Several times in fact.” A breath of disgust passes through my upset lips. He doesn’t listen to me.
“I didn’t believe you. Yet week after week I’m faced with this sad, empty sight. What do you eat?”
“Restaurants exist for a reason. You should know, you own one.”
He approaches the coffee table and picks up the half-empty bowl of popcorn. “Really?”
“Breakfast of champions.”
He shakes his head and sighs. “I’m here to save the day.”
While he and his chipper attitude are intent on making soup, I resume my fetal position on the couch, my new companiontightly curled up at my side. I think I doze off because when I next awaken Ren is standing above me, holding a tray with a bowl of steaming hot soup.
“It’s ready,” he says, concern marring his features.
I sit up, running my hands over my face. I probably look like death warmed over. Don’t care.
“Thank you, Ren.” With the tray taking my furry friend’s place on my lap, Mandy curls up at my side.
Ren grabs a bowl for himself, and we sit on the couch together eating our soup while staring at the TV.
He was right. His soup is delicious. It does make me feel good. Too bad it can’t cure a broken heart.
I set my tray on the coffee table, and he follows suit.
“Thank you. That was really good.”
“You bet.”
Okay, Ren Chambers, here it is. Your final chance to make things right. I reach out and grasp his hand. I watch our fingers thread together and I feel the warmth of his skin. But when I look up at him, I’m devastated.
I don’t see a tender smile or a warm expression. I see a furrowed brow and upset eyes.
