Page 26 of Craving

“You telling me I smell?”

He grinned. “I’m telling you you look like you need a break. Go.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then gently squeezed his forearm. The touch lingered even when she pulled her hand away. He watched her walk out of the kitchen, heart beating steadily.

The thing about growing up as a caretaker for his family was that Marlon enjoyed it. He liked making other people feel good. He liked knowing that the people he cared about were safe and healthy and happy.

But he knew how draining it could be too. He knew that caring for others could be a trap, a long slog that paid no dividends after years of endless work. When his grandparents had passed and Leo had been old enough to leave for college, Marlon had exhaled, slept for days, then realized he had no idea who he was or where he was going. It had been nearly two decades since then, and he had no desire to go back to his role as the main carer and provider for other people.

He just wanted to be on his own. That was the only way his life made sense.

He stirred the onions as they slowly grew dark and jammy, their delicious scent filling the kitchen. That’s when he noticed the little succulents clustered on the windowsill and the new porcelain jars on the shelf with cursive writing proclaiming them full of flour, coffee, tea, and sugar. The old, yellowing lace curtain had also been removed from the window, and he could see the spindly, bare branches of the trees in his backyard interspersed with hardy evergreens. It would snow soon. He could feel it.

Camilla was leaving her mark on his home, and her mark looked good. He glanced around the kitchen and, for the first time in a long time, truly noticed how old it was. After his grandparents had died two decades ago, he’d hardly done any work on the place. He’d retreated into himself.

The cabinets were old melamine, and half the doors were either hanging crooked or swollen with moisture. The backsplash was tiled, its grout stained and cracked. The linoleum on the floor was peeling up in a couple of corners.

He hadn’t noticed. Maybe he hadn’t cared.

“Those look great,” Camilla said, drawing his attention to the skillet. Her hair was wet and twisted into a clip, and she wore loose sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. He wanted to rip her clothes off and feel her wet hair on his skin as he took her on the kitchen counter.

No. No, what he wanted was a peaceful life where he didn’t feel constantly stressed about other people. He just wanted to be alone.

Taking the spoon from his grasp, Camilla transferred the onions to a small bowl and pulled out patties she’d already shaped. “Do you mind slicing the buns? We can toast them in the oven.”

They worked side by side in the kitchen she’d brightened with her presence and her plants and her jars, and Marlon felt a deep, hidden knot loosen in the depths of his heart. When they sat down, he felt like he was home for the first time in decades, even though he’d lived here all along.

“I like your additions,” Marlon told her, nodding to the tiny potted plants and jars.

Camilla read his expression with a hesitant gaze. “Yeah? I was worried you’d think I was overstepping. I found the jars in one of the cupboards. The curtains are in the laundry room. I washed them but I don’t think the yellow color will come out. They’re hanging up to dry.”

“Toss ‘em,” he said. “Room looks better without them.” Marlon groaned as he bit into his burger. The woman could cook. And bake. And decorate. And look amazing doing it.

“Can’t beat a good burger.” She wiggled happily in her chair and took a bite of her own. She glanced at the window and asked, “Did those curtains come with the place?”

“This was my grandparents’ house. Leo and I lived here when we were teens and inherited it when they passed. I bought him out so he could pay for college. Haven’t done much with it since then.”

Camilla’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to take down your grandparents’ curtains or mess with the jars. I can put everything back.”

Marlon chewed his bite and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been meaning to renovate this place for about fifteen years, but I guess I haven’t gotten around to it. Don’t know why.”

“I get it. Your grandparents were important to you?”

“Only parents we ever had,” Marlon said. Then, as if his mouth had a mind of its own, he heard himself continue: “Mom struggled with addiction and died when we were in our teens. We moved in with our grandparents, but they got sick when I was in high school, so I ended up taking care of them. We couldn’t afford a nurse. When they passed, I didn’t know what to do with the place, so I just left it as-is while I made sure Leo graduated high school and made it to college. Then I was starting a business, and all my energy went into getting it off the ground. Guess I got comfortable here.” He gave her a hint of a smile. “Maybe I got lazy.”

Camilla watched him with big, blue eyes, and he thought she saw too much. “That’s a lot for a kid to deal with. And then to go on and start a business.” She whistled. “Impressive.”

Marlon shrugged. “That’s the hand I was dealt. We were lucky to have a place to stay.”

She nodded, turning back to her meal. They ate, and that knot in Marlon’s chest loosened a little bit more.

“You like redecorating?” he asked suddenly when they were both sitting, quietly satisfied after the meal.

Camilla straightened. “Yes. Why?”

“I could use your help. I’ve been meaning to buy a new couch for the living room, but I don’t know what to get. Walls need a good coat of paint. Maybe a new rug. Little decorative shit. I don’t know. I’ve got no idea.”

Camilla inhaled, clasped her hands at her breast, and let out a little squeak of excitement. She was the cutest thing Marlon had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but chuckle in response.

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