Page 73 of On the Line
“He just got his real estate license,” Berkley said. Then she tapped her phone screen a few more times, and a moment later, Amelia’s dinged. “That’s his contact info. He said give him a call tomorrow and you guys can schedule some time to sit down and talk specifics.”
“Berkley, thank you!” Amelia said, leaping up from her seat and rushing around to give Berkley a hug. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Berkley shrugged. “We’ve all got connections. Might as well use them. But you’re not signing a lease or any sort of contract without me looking at it first.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” Amelia said, giving Berkley a mock salute.
As the two chatted excitedly about names for both the gym and the new travel blog, Lexie checked out of the conversation completely.
It seemed these days, she was the only holdout. The only one unwilling to let Mitch back into her life.
But she had tried, hadn’t she? She’d gone to Ann Arbor and walked into that hospital with every intention of extending an olive branch, of attempting to bridge the gap between them that now only grew wider by the day.
And he hadn’t wanted to see her. That wasn’t her fault.
So why was everyone acting like she was the bad guy here?
Thirteen Months Ago...
“Whatisallofthis?” Lexie asked once she’d shed her coat and walked into Mitch’s kitchen that evening.
“I’m cooking us dinner,” he said, curling an arm around her waist and pulling her in to drop a kiss on her head. She snuggled closer, letting his warmth chase away the frigid November air still clinging to her from outside.
Lexie raised an eyebrow as she surveyed the scene. The normally pristine white granite counters looked like a bomb had gone off. There were ingredients everywhere: raw chicken, half-chopped vegetables, bottles of spices and sauces. A pot on the stovetop was coughing steam into the air, and something smelled vaguely burnt.
“Since when do you cook?” She asked, walking over to the stove to find spaghetti noodles boiling in an over-large pot. A pan with some questionable-looking red sauce bubbled next to it.
“Since it’s our one year anniversary,” he said, walking over to give the sauce a stir. It hissed when he scraped the spoon through it, alerting them both thatitwas responsible for the acrid scent in the air.
“Mitch, I appreciate the effort and all but we didn’t start dating until April.”
“It’s not our one yeardatinganniversary,” he said. “It’s our one yearfuckinganniversary.” He turned and pointed the spoon in the direction of the front hall. “Don’t you remember that wall? That’s where I fucked you for the first time and then you pulled up your pants and left.”
Lexie snorted. She had worked so hard in those early days to keep this man at arm’s length, because she knew what would happen if she didn’t.
And now look at her, celebrating the one year anniversary of the first time she had sex with her now boyfriend.
Life came at her fast.
Everything had been good since their fight about his father on the day she met his mom. Better than good, actually; they’d been amazing. It scared her a bit how easily she had fallen into a steady rhythm with Mitch, how quickly he had fit into her life, the life she had so carefully cultivated around herself on the assumption that she would never need or want anyone to share it with.
From the very first moment she laid eyes on him, she should’ve known that Mitch would be the one to change all of that.
For all her talk of not knowinghowto be a girlfriend, she and Mitch had fallen into an easy pattern. Being reminded of where they’d stood a year ago, so close physically but a chasm gaping between them emotionally, was sobering. Lexie had almost let this man, who could not cook to save his life but had still donned a little beige canvas apron over his jeans and black and white flannel, and destroyed his kitchen in an attempt to make today special for her, walk away because she’d let her past insecurities get the best of her. His patience in all things in life was something she’d always admired about him, but never more so than when it came to waiting for her while she navigated this new terrain.
She stepped away to study him, loving these quiet moments when it was just them. With them both barefoot and casual, about to settle in for a night in front of the TV while the city rushed past below. They had so few of these days, when they were both in the city and not busy with work or practices or games, and Lexie savored them, tucked them away in her chest and brought them out to keep her company on the days they were apart.
“Why exactly are we celebrating that?” She asked as she climbed onto a stool at his kitchen island. ”If it means we end tonight with sex against that wall again, I’m not going to complain. No offense, but I’m not eating anything you’ve got cooking in this kitchen right now.”
Mitch sighed and removed his ball cap to scratch at his scalp. Then he stalked over to the stove and turned all the burners off before moving toward the refrigerator, where he pulled out two beers. Seconds later, the caps pinged against the counter as he removed them, then he slid one in front of her.
“I don’t know why I thought I could cook,” he said with a chuckle, leaning over to open the drawer to the left of the sink where he kept takeout menus. He fanned them out in front of her face. “What are you thinking tonight?”
She gestured to Mitch’s ill-advised cooking experiment. “Italian sounds amazing.”
“Italian it is,” he said, shuffling through the stack until he found the one for Crispigna’s, although Lexie didn’t know why he bothered because they got takeout from there enough to know the menu by heart.
Once he called and placed their order for delivery, he settled them on the couch with their beer, and she curled up in her favorite spot—her back to his chest with his strong arms wrapped around her middle, one hand resting just above her belly button while the other clasped his beer.
