Page 93 of When We Were Us
Now that I’ve seen what we could have—the life we could build—and how perfectly she fits into my life, I can think of little else but all of the things I can do for her. All I canbefor her if she’ll let me.
“How’s Apollo today?” she asks into the silence, and I wonder how long I’ve been standing here, lost in thought. The soup is starting to bubble, so I turn the burner down some.
I throw a glance over my shoulder and start opening cupboards, in search of bowls and silverware. “He’s good. I sat with him for a while before I came over. Seems to be on the mend, thanks to you.”
She smiles and gives a small nod. “Finn said that Paige has been going out every day and reading to him. That’s kind of adorable.”
I laugh lightly and set two heavy soup bowls with handles on the countertop, then flip off the stove with a nod. “She’s definitely Hudson’s kid. He used to read to his stuffed animals when we were kids. He said she reads to her stuffed unicorn almost every night, too.”
“I can see that.”
I open the cupboard to my right and find two glasses that I fill with ice from the freezer.
“I don’t have any whiskey, but there’s beer,” she says from behind me as I lean into the fridge, my arm propped on the door. Her voice is teasing as I reach in and grab two cans of ginger ale.
I straighten and face her with a smirk. “The idea is to keep the soupin, Wrenley.”
She barks out an offended laugh, but her eyes dance as she shakes her head at me.
I set the drinks down on the table and then fill our bowls with soup, sticking a spoon in each of them. Crossing back to the table, I give her a small smile and then set one bowl in front of her. She thanks me and waits for me to sit across from her at the small Formica table.
I pull back the chair and sit, then awkwardly settle my long legs under the table, bumping it with my knees. Luckily, the soup didn’t spill. Removing my hat and setting it on the chair beside me, I pick up my spoon.
She lets out a laugh and I look up at her, my spoon halfway to my mouth. “What’s so funny?”
“Just watching you try to cram your big, ol’ legs under this itty-bitty table.” She leans over and looks under the table to see my knees touching the underside.
“I’m pretty good at fitting big things into tight places.”
She does a double take, her cheeks dusting just the faintest pink. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”
I poke my spoon in her direction. “Eat, woman.”
She laughs, taking a spoonful of soup. She blows on it, then moans around the spoon as she eats. “That’s so good.”
“Nothing’s coming back up, is it?” I tease.
“Shut up.”
I grin across the table at her and take a bite.
After we finish our soup, we clean up and then take our drinks into the living room. She sits on one end of the couch, and I sit on the other.
“Want to watch a movie or something?”
“Sure.”
She clicks on the TV and flips through a few channels before landing on “A Few Good Men.”
After a few minutes, she turns to me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She leans forward and sets her drink on the table. “Hudson and Finn.” She pulls an afghan off the back of the couch and drapes it over her legs. “Anything ever happen between them?”
I look over at her, confused by the topic. “You mean, like…sex stuff?”
She makes a face and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like…that.”
