Page 11 of The Rebound
“Ah, well, once the little guy is here, you can come over and make yourself some espresso anytime.”
I narrow my eyes at his back as he opens the fridge. I thought his name was fitting before, but now I’m pretty sure he’s an actual angel on earth.
“All right, we’ve got all sorts of produce ... zucchini, tomatoes, potatoes, fresh garlic, arugula—”
“Geez, you eat really healthy foods.”
“Don’t be fooled. There are at least ten frozen pizzas in here.” He chuckles, tapping his knuckles against the freezer door. “I went to the farmers’ market recently and left with enough produce to feed a small army.”
“There’s a farmers’ market nearby?”
“Yeah, every Saturday from eight in the morning until sundown. If you’re around next weekend, I could take you.”
“You know me. I’ve got no plans.”
Even as I sayyou know me, I think how silly that must sound to him. We’ve only just met. But I really do feel like Saint and I have become fast friends. Faster friends than any other friends I’ve had, at least. It’s nice to justclickwith someone so quickly, even if it is the last thing I expected.
I clear my throat. “If you have any bread, I make a mean vegetarian panini.”
“I have some sliced multigrain and some ciabatta.”
“I can work with that. Throw me the ciabatta.”
It’s a quick and easy recipe that I learned during my brief stint as a vegetarian back in college. Simmer some onions and tomatoes in a pan with a little sugar until it reaches a jammy consistency, season and sauté some zucchini, and then slap it all on bread slathered with garlic mayo. Panini-press the whole sandwich, if you have one, which of course Saint does.
When it’s all done, I plate the sandwiches for us while Saint looks on, impressed.
We sit down at the small dining table strategically positioned by the window overlooking the courtyard. The sunset casts a warm glow across the whole room, making my companion’s dark eyelashes create shadows against his high cheekbones. I haven’t had the chance to make food for another person for over half a year now, so watching Saint’s eyes light up when he takes his first bite is all kinds of fulfilling.
“This is really fucking good,” he says, mid-chew.
“I’m glad you like it.” I beam at him, taking a bite of my own.
Yep, that hits the spot.
Over dinner, we talk more about summer in Boston, what there is to do, what there is to see. It’s not long before our plates are empty and our appetites satisfied.
When I stand up to clean up the kitchen, my feet scream in protest. Saint must notice my wince, because he quickly takes the plates from my hands and urges me to sit back down.
“I’ve got it. You just relax.”
I sigh, feeling a little helpless in my condition. I used to be able to do everything by myself. It’s humbling to have my body remind me to slow down like this.
After dragging my tired body over to the surprisingly comfortable leather couch, I find myself content to just lie back and listen to Saint clean up in the kitchen. There’s something so domestic about the way the dishwasher hums and the fridge gently opens and closes with each ingredient being put back in its rightful place.
Saint reemerges from the kitchen, drying his hands on a small dishtowel. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all right.” I release a slow exhale, and Saint continues to appraise me, almost like he’s inspecting me to be sure I’m telling him the truth.
“I’ve never really, uh, been around someone who’s pregnant before. Are there, like rules, or ...”
I grin, despite myself. “There aresomerules. I’m not supposed to eat sushi or deli meats. I can’t take certain medications. And there’s some activities to avoid, like the obvious ones—bungee jumping, or even taking up a new vigorous workout routine.”
“Darn, I’ll have to cancel that skydiving excursion I was planning to take you on.” He treats me to a wolfish grin.
I chuckle, appreciating yet again his easy sense of humor. “Trust me, you’ve done more than enough. I fact, I think I overdid it today,” I say with a sigh. “My feet are pretty swollen.”
“That sounds like fun,” Saint says, somehow managing to sound both sarcastic and compassionate at the same time.
