Page 11 of Gift of You
I raised my eyebrow meaningfully, and he winced.
Looking defeated, he readjusted his glasses and said, “I’ll just get out of your hair. Merry Christmas, Matthew.”
“What time?”
He looked down at his naked wrist. “I’m not wearing my watch, but I think it’s around tenthirty.”
“What time isdinner?”
“Oh. Um, twothirty. It’s just a small prime rib, mashed potatoes, and green beans.” He shrugged as if that wasn’t an impressive menu.
“Considering I was planning on heating up a can of soup, that sounds pretty good to me.”
Something brushed against my legs, and I looked down to find Ernie sticking a curious nose out the door. Louis immediately crouched down and reached out a hand for Ernie to sniff. The cat gave a little chirp then bumped his head into Louis’s hand.
Louis looked up at me, smiling brightly. “What’s its name?”
I was so stunned by his smile that it took me a moment to remember he’d asked me a question. “Ernie.”
“Like Bert and Ernie?”
“Like Ernest Hemingway.”
“Perfect for a bookstore owner.” He stood, his smile dimming to something more polite.
“I better get back so I can get dinner started. I’ll see you at twothirty?”
At my nod, he headed back into his apartment, while I did the same. I scooped up Ernie, scratching the top of his head as he purred in my arms. “Looks like we have dinner plans.”
I couldn’t rememberthe last time I’d stood in front of the full-length mirror and contemplated what I was wearing. Most days a flannel and jeans was sufficient. But for reasons I didn’t care to scrutinize, I was currently on my third change of clothes.
Why did I care what I wore to dinner? Why did I care what Louis thought about my attire? I’d been perfectly content at the thought of spending Christmas alone. It was just like any other day. In fact, I preferred it to feel like any other day. It made the fact that I didn’t have anyone to spend it with easier to bear.
Louis wasn’t wrong, he did annoy me, but not for the reasons he thought. He pushed me out of my routine. Challenged the status quo. Shook things up in ways I wasn’t prepared for. But as he’d lamented the idea of spending Christmas alone, I realized that maybe I didn’t want to spend the day alone either. Moreover, I didn’t wanthimto spend Christmas alone. He was outgoing. Gregarious. Larger than life. He was meant to be surrounded by people. I wasn’t sure why he’d sought out a week of solitude during the holidays, but the way he’d lit up when I’d agreed to come to dinner... It had been a long time since I’d been the cause of someone else’s smile. The warmth that spread through me had been a forgotten feeling, but was one I found myself wanting to feel again.
So here I was, standing in front of the full-length mirror I’d installed for Ally many years ago, dressed in a cream-colored cable knit sweater I’d forgotten I had, paired with my good jeans, feeling like an idiot.
“It’s just dinner,” I said to Ernie, who blinked at me as if he wasn’t buying my bullshit. Shaking my head, I crossed to my closet and pulled out a pair of shoes, then I made my wayinto the kitchen, stopping to pull a bottle of red wine out of the cabinet, and headed next door.
11
LOUIS
I’d never been sonervous to cook for another man in my entire life. I’d cooked for dates before. I’d cooked for twenty-person dinner parties, and I cooked for myself most every night. In my twenties, I’d grown tired of takeout and fast food, so I’d learned to cook, and in the process I’d discovered I had a bit of a knack for it. And there was just something so pleasurable in indulging in a delicious meal that I’d prepared. I didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t enjoy my food, even if I was just cooking for myself.
But this afternoon I found myself incredibly nervous in ways I hadn’t been for a long time, and not just about the cooking. Something about Matthew discomfited me. I knew I was a lot, but I’d long ago stopped apologizing for that. Or at least, I’d thought I’d stopped apologizing for it. Matthew had pointed out my apologies twice over the last couple of days, so perhaps I did it more than I’d realized.
Or maybe it was just the effect he had on me. I found myself wanting to impress him, even as I seemed to do anythingbutimpress when he was around. And for what? For a guy who was clearly not interested in me. Who was still grieving his wife. Whohad a life here while I had a life in the city. I deserved someone who wanted me wholeheartedly, I reminded myself.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t be friendly with the guy, or that we couldn’t share a meal together to keep the loneliness at bay, but it was time to stop placing so much importance on his opinion of me. I was fucking fantastic, goddammit. Anyone who didn’t get that wasn’t worth the worry.
A knock sounded at the door, and I crossed over to answer, taking a breath and resettling myself as I went. But as I pulled the door open, every thought I’d had flew right out of my head.
Matthew in flannel was attractive as hell. He really knew how to work that whole lumberjack, mountain-man vibe. But Matthew in dark-wash jeans paired with a creamy cable-knit sweater that hugged his chest and shoulders in all the right ways could only be described as delicious.
“H-hi,” I stammered. “Come in.”
I thought I caught a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything as he crossed inside. He had no coat for me to take since he’d just come from next door, but he offered up a bottle of wine, so I took that, setting it on the counter next to the prime rib that I’d just pulled out to rest.
