Icouldn’t help but gawk. Ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, asparagus, and sweetpotatoes had been loaded high and topped with a big, flaky biscuit. My mouthwatered at the sight, making me quickly realize how hungry I truly was. Goosepopped the dishes into themicrowave, andproceeded topour my favorite pink drink into glasses he found in one of my cabinets.
Ittook a lot to impress me and make me swoon. I was never easily excited, and Ididn't quickly fall for gestures, grand or otherwise. But this meal and thefact that he had walked in the cold to bring it to me, made my heart lunge formy tongue, leaving me speechless and hoping this wasn't intended as anythingmore than a friend caring for a friend.
Goosebrought the plates, then the glasses, to the table, before gesturing toward achair. “Sit,” he commanded gently, and I complied.
“Thislooks great.”
“Thanks,”he said, then laughed. “I didn't make it.”
Laughing,I dug into the mountain of mashed potatoes. “Oh, no?”
Heshook his head, biting into the biscuit. “My dad cooks for the holidays.”
Theweightlessness of my heart fell. “You were at yourdad's?”
“Yeah,”he replied, nodding as if he hadn’t just ruined his day with family for me.“With my brother and his family.”
Guiltfilled my stomach cavity as I slowed my chewing. “You didn't have to leave forme. Seriously. I would've been okay.”
Heshook his head. “Are you kidding me? You saved me from the inevitable fightbetween my dad and brother.”
Frowning,I muttered, “Well, I know I'd love to be home with my family right now.”
“Don'tget me wrong,” he said, poking at his food with his fork, “I love them todeath. But I don't love listening to arguments over politics or listening to mysister-in-law yell at their kids because they fight all the time.”
“Whatabout your girlfriend?”
Pursinghis lips, Goose hesitated before answering, “She's working today.”
“OnChristmas?”
Hesighed and shifted his gaze to the lamp hanging above the table. “She's beenworking on this TV show, which is great for her, but our relationship haskindabeen put on the back burner because of it.”
“Whatkind of TV show?” I asked, vaguely remembering that time I’d first seen her atthe bar and her mention of a producer.
“Um,well,” he hesitated for a moment, then said, “she’s a psychic medium. So, shepasses along messages from the dead to their loved ones and can read littlebits and pieces of the future.”
Myjaw dropped. “Wow,” I uttered. “Brendan doesn’t do anything cool like that. Heworks for a law firm on the upper East side, doing a bunch of boring crap Iknow nothing about. So, he never talks about it, and I never ask.”
Goosechuckled. “Tracey doesn’t tell me much about what she does either,” he replied,shrugging. “A job is a job, I guess.”
Then,I asked, “Do you guys live together?”
Heshook his head as he popped a piece of ham into his mouth. “We haven't beentogether for that long, and just as things started to get somewhere, wheremaybe we would've talked about moving in together, she landed this deal with anetwork.” He shrugged as he swallowed. “And the rest is history.”
Then,he asked, “What about you? What's the deal with you and Baby Daddy?”
Laughing,I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. “I don't even know. One day,things are great and he'sreally supportiveand Istart to think there's hope for our future. But then, the next, he's makingplans to see his family for Christmas without mentioning anything to me. So ...take that for what it is, I guess.”
Squeezinghis eyes shut, he dropped his fork and said, “Whoa, hold up a second.” Heopened his eyes and leveled me with a serious glare. “You told me he was busyand couldn't be with you. You didn't tell me he was celebrating Christmaswithout you.”
“Well,I mean, heisbusy,” I reasoned loosely.
“Kenny.”He slowly shook his head, never releasing the hold he had on my eyes. “How canyou be okay with this shit? You'rehere,sickand not able to see your own family, because you're carryinghisbaby.And he's not here. There’s nothing even remotely okay about that.”
Iknew he was right. I couldn’t deny that everything happening in my life,regarding my relationship, was wrong, and I hated that. I hated feeling likethere was nothing I could do about it, given the predicament I was in, and howalone I was in that. But I refused to talk about it or let myself villainizethe father of my unborn baby, not out loud.InsteadIate the rest of my delicious dinner in silence, while sipping on my favoritedrink, and so did Goose.
Whenwe were both finished, I took our plates and glasses and carried them to thekitchen, while Goose flopped onto the couch and patted the seat beside him.
