“Like the bar?”
They grin wider. “You’ve been?” the woman asks, then holds her hand out for me to shake as well. “I’m Isabella.”
“Bentley,” I reply, “and yes, I went with a friend of mine the other night.”
“How lovely. Well, I hope you go back often. And it’s lovely to meet you. We’re Alex and Tommy’s parents.”
“Alex told me. I’m a friend of his.”
Isabella laughs and there’s a twinkle in her eye when she says, “He told you we were the crazy family who lives next door to each other, huh?”
I flush. “He didn’t put it that way.”
She laughs. “I’m just teasing you, Bentley. But I’m very glad you are friends with my Alex. He needs more people in his life.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Johnny says. “We’re on our way out for dinner and dancing but we’ll see you around I’m sure.”
“Have fun,” I say, waving as they walk away.
Okay, so that wasn’t so bad.
When Thursday rolls around I find I am actually looking forward to seeing Alex again. We’ve barely seen each other since I dropped him off at work. Our schedules being off means we run into each other occasionally when I’m coming home and he’s leaving, but that’s it, and as much as I enjoy spending time alone, I could use some company too. And I like that I am cooking for more than one person.
My apartment is pretty much in order now, everything in its place, pillows and blankets on the sofa, pictures of me with Mom and Gram set up on the mantle and the single bookshelf I own, decorations on the wall, and it’s starting to feel more like home each day.
I hear a knock just as the oven beeps, letting me knowdinner is ready. “Just a second!” I call. I shouldn’t be nervous, really. Alex is my friend. But even though I’m looking forward to seeing him I can’t help but be a little anxious, too. The only people I’ve ever cooked for are Peyton and Gram. I hope he likes what I made. I also hope I’m not too awkward. I know I’m not the best at conversation. Alex is pretty good at it though so I hope things don’t get too weird.
I pull dinner out of the oven and then turn it off before heading to the door. When I open it, Alex is beaming at me and holding up a six pack of beer in one hand, carrying Marble in the other. She doesn’t look overly pleased about being manhandled, but as soon as she sees me she scrambles out of Alex’s grip and practically leaps into my arms, startling me.
“Jesus, girl, at least pretend to be hard to get,” Alex chides her playfully. We ended up exchanging numbers when he came by to thank me for shoveling his car out the other day, and told me I was welcome to come visit Marble while he’s at work if I want to, just to use the spare key he keeps under his doormat, so I did go over a few times in the evenings and cuddle her a bit, and now Alex says she’s spoiled.
“Ready to get this show on the road?” He laughs at his own joke and it makes me chuckle. “See what I did there? Show? Cause we’re watching a show?”
“Yes, very clever,” I deadpan, stroking Marble as she gives me her belly, and he laughs.
He sniffs the air. “It smells amazing in here. What did you make?”
I follow him into the kitchen where he sets the beer on the counter. “Baked ziti,” I tell him.
He leans over the pan on the stove and inhales, his eyes closing. “Oh, yum. Can we eat now? I’m starving.”
I nod, but hesitate putting Marble down. I haven’t gotten my kitty fix yet.
“You’re clearly busy,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Why don’t I dish it? Where are your plates?”
I smile softly and direct him, and in no time at all we’ve got two steaming plates and Alex is carrying them to the table. “It’s looking really good in here, too. You all unpacked?”
“Yeah,” I say as I sit down with Marble still in my arms. She purrs and rubs her head against my chest.
We talk about work as we eat, me finally setting Marble down after realizing how challenging it is to eat with one hand and also not wanting to accidentally drop food on her. I don’t think she would forgive even me for that. She saunters over to the oversized ottoman that’s used as a coffee table and jumps on it, turning around a couple of times before settling in for a nap.
“You should bring her over here from now on instead of coming to my place when you want to visit her,” Alex says.
“Really?”
He shrugs. “Why not? I know she’s safe with you. Just toss her back in the door when you get sick of her.”
I chuckle, and for some reason the fact that he knows his girl would be safe with me warms my chest. “Okay. Thanks.”
