Page 49 of Four Weddings to Fall in Love
“Have you called or texted him yet?”
“Mom, stop it.I can handle it.”
“Do you not like him?What’s wrong?Is he too serious for you?I—”
“Max is fine.When there’s something to report, I’ll tell you.”
“Alright.”My mother sounds doubtful, but this seems to placate her…for now.
We chat for a little longer, and by the time I get off the phone, I’m not in the mood for any kind of cooking, not even frying a couple of eggs.Takeout it is.
I wonder what Max will cook for me on Saturday night, though to be honest, the food isn’t the main thing on my mind.
Chapter 19
Max
Sincemyfirstsexualencounter with Kim was a bit underwhelming, I’m afraid I’ll get in my head and have problems again today.This, of course, is the last thing I want.
So, I make sure I have a relatively low-stress day and try not to obsess over anything.I go to the gym for a quick workout, then head to the grocery store, where I get everything I need for tonight.Back at home, I have lunch, followed by laundry, cleaning, and a little reading.Typical weekend activities.
Just after six o’clock, I start preparing the food.I warned Kim not to come too early, because I’m not very good at entertaining someone while I’m cooking.
She arrives at seven, wearing a blue sundress with thin straps.It ends just below her knees, and the instant I see her, I think about how convenient it would be to kneel down and get her off.Or bend her over the counter.
Instead, I nod at the box in her hand, the one that says “Happy As Pie.”
“I’ll take that,” I say.Our fingers brush as she hands it over.
“Strawberry rhubarb,” she says.
That’s actually my favorite, but it feels weird to say that now, so I don’t mention it.She pulls a pint of vanilla ice cream out of her bag, and I put it in the freezer for later.Then I pour her a glass of wine before turning on the wok.Yesterday, I debated what to cook, ultimately deciding that my eggplant and minced pork recipe was the way to go.It’s notmyrecipe, exactly, just a modification of something I found online, but I do it well.
She sits at the kitchen island.It’s a bit unnerving to have her here as I work, and she seems to pick up on my anxiety.
“I really don’t know shit about cooking,” she says.“As long as you don’t start a fire, I won’t notice that anything’s amiss.”
I sense that she’s a bit nervous, too.Her first proper date in years.She’s hiding it, behind smiles and a dress with a particularly low neckline—I approve, of course—but I can tell.
She sips her wine.“Do you work from home?”
“Yes.I didn’t before the pandemic, but I do now.Aside from the occasional site visit and meetings that can’t be done over Teams.”
“You like it that way?”
“I do.”
“It wasn’t for me.I mean, it was good in the short term, and I do like working at home every Friday now, but I get twitchy if I spend too much time in the apartment.It’s nice wearing whatever you like to work, though, isn’t it?”When I don’t immediately answer, she says, “Are you one of those people who wouldn’t dare work in his pajamas?”
“I dress like I’m going to the office, even if I no longer have an office to go to.”
“Like, nice pants and a collared shirt?Do you put onshoes?”
“I don’t go that far.”
“Sensible.”
She gets up and examines my Blu-ray collection.It isn’t huge, but I don’t trust things not to disappear on streaming services, so I’ve bought what I want to watch again.I try not to get distracted by the pretty woman wandering around my apartment, the sleek line of her back, the way she sips her wine.Those enticing buttons on the back of her dress?I’m definitely reigning in my thoughts about those.
