Page 79 of Napkins and Other Distractions
She grabs the apron from the hook behind the pantry door, and when she fumbles with the ties behind her back, Sweetums, sensing playtime, jumps into action. He swats and paws at the apron’s strings and Corrine’s legs.
“Shoo!” she shouts. “Get this creature away from the kitchen while we cook.”
“Let me,” Ruth says, hanging up her coat by the door and scooping Sweetums up. He instantly melts into her arms. “Bedroom?”
I nod. “But don’t shut the door. He’ll only protest. He’ll snuggle up on the bed on his own. Maybe.”
“Got it,” Ruth says, cradling Sweetums during his temporary relocation.
Corrine presents her back to me, ties dangling, and I fasten them into a bow.
“So, dating then?” she asks.
“Yes. Dating. Definitely dating.”
“And shtupping,” Ruth says, returning empty-handed. “There’s definitely more than dating happening.”
My face blushes with embarrassment, but Ruth only persists.
“Listen, I know a thing or two about this. Amy and I started this way. Insta-lust. Like a new star exploding into existence. The heat could fry the Eastern Seaboard.” Ruth smirks and momentarily seems distracted.
“I liked Amy,” I say. “She was hilarious. And cute.”
“She was a pain in my ass.”
“Sounds like she was a good match for you,” Corrine says.
“At first. But our star burned out. I prefer to explore … many stars and solar systems.” Ruth washes her hands, readying to assist. “That’s not going to happen here, though. Wait until you see Vincent. This guy is smoking. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him either.” With her hands dry, Ruth snaps the dish towel at my ass.
Corrine’s pursed-lips smile hints this is unfamiliar territory for her. Our conversations about her and Charlie are firmly closed-door, and I was hoping to keep it that way about anyone I might date. But Ruth Parrish doesn’t understand PG-13.
“This is some next-level shit, Corrine. We’re talking—”
“Anyway,” I interrupt, throwing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer at Ruth, “let’s get these going and maybe not mortify my ex-wife and new whatever-we’re-calling-him, thank you very much.”
Ruth opens her mouth to reply, and the buzzer saves me from her retort.
“That’ll be him.” I peer at Ruth. “Behave.”
She smirks mischievously. The sounds of pots, lids, and running water usher me into the hallway, and I head downstairs to let Vincent in.
When I open the door, Vincent’s standing, shifting his weight from foot to foot, holding a bouquet in one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He’s wearing his long wool coat, and his standard “uniform,” but the top two buttons of his dress shirt are open. That spot, an appetizer of his neck and chest, beckons, but when he looks at me, there’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before. He’s blinking rapidly, and there’s a tightness around his beautiful eyes.
“Hey,” I say. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t speak but shakes his head quickly. “I almost didn’t come.”
“Come here.” I open my arms. All of his weight sinks into me, and he completely melts. When I gather him up, his torso shakes in my grasp. My teeth bite at my lower lip. Corrine and Ruth are upstairs. Waiting.
“Listen, there’s nothing to worry about. Corrine is harmless. Truly. And Ruth, well, she’ll behave. I promise.”
I pull him back. The color has drained from his face.
“Let’s sit,” I say, and we settle on the front step. He leans on me, breath heavy. The weight of his body presses so firmly on me he’d knock me over if the door wasn’t supporting me.
“This is why I don’t get past the first date,” he says. “This is what happens when I like someone.”
“What happens? Tell me.” My arm hasn’t moved from Vincent’s torso, and I squeeze tightly, attempting to soothe him.
