Page 224 of Sing with Me

“Well, you don’t have to cook much.” Before she put away the groceries, she washed her hands.

Diehl followed. He wiped his hands on the kitchen towel that Skye gave him.

He watched her put a pot of water on the stove. “What’s that for?”

“Rice. I was going to cook shrimp curry. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure. I’m game for new dishes. I don’t remember the last time I had shrimp curry.” Diehl followed Skye back to bags of groceries on the floor.

Skye took them out one by one and put them away, with Diehl assisting, asking where everything went, and being careful to put things in the right places.

“You’re helpful,” Skye said.

“I don’t want you to be angry with me later when you can’t find this or that.”

“You’re the first b—uh, person to tell me that.”

Diehl stopped in his tracks, still holding a head of broccoli in his hands. “Say it, Skye.”

“Say what?”

“What you were about to say.”

“Which was?”

Diehl didn’t frown. He looked straight at Skye. “You almost called me boyfriend, but you were afraid to because our relationship has been fast and furious, and our time is split between two cities. We’re an item and yet how could we be if we’re not together everyday?”

Slowly, Skye nodded.

“You were in my world last month, and now I want to be in your world.”

“You keep saying that. What does it mean?” Skye washed her hands and started putting away the groceries.

“Well, prior to June, my world was in Atlanta and your world was here. We knew who each other was—in passing or because my sister prayed with you about me. However, when I came to stay at Brin’s beach house, our worlds collided, and I…fell in love with you.”

The bottle of bone broth slipped out of Skye’s grip. Diehl caught it, and put it back in her hands. He felt pretty good about his quick reflex—especially with only one hand free. Thank God the bottle didn’t hit the floor first.

“You feel the same way about me, don’t you?” Diehl asked.

Tears pooled in Skye’s eyes. “I miss you every time we’re not together.”

“You love me too.”

“More than I can say.”

“I figured.” Diehl handed her the bottle of broth to put away in the refrigerator. “Which begs the question: why haven’t we moved forward?”

The water boiled, interrupting their conversation. Skye put a plastic bag of something in the sink. It turned out to be shrimp—heads and tails and all.

“Do we have to peel and devein those shrimp?” Diehl asked, thinking it could take all night.

“I’m just cooking a couple of pounds of shrimp. The rest, I’ll figure out tomorrow.” Skye put away the rest of the meats in the refrigerator.

“Putting away groceries takes forever,” Diehl complained.

“I usually listen to the news or a podcast when I do this.” Skye cleared some of the bags, folding her reusable shopping bags.

Diehl asked where the fruits went and Skye pointed to the fruit drawer in the refrigerator. “Do you know of a Pastor Fitzpatrick—better known as Pastor Fizz—at Midtown Chapel?”

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