“I can return them,” I said.
“Or we can donate them to Horizons,” he suggested. “I’m sure they can use them for someone.”
“Good point.”
The next item in the bag was a stuffed, pink unicorn. “What the heck?” I laughed.
“I didn’t want the cashier to think I had a maxi pad fetish. So, to distract from my collection, I threw that into the mix.”
“I feel like that many maxi pads and a unicorn might have made you come off as even weirder.”
“Solid point. But, hey, it’s cute. It’s for Kiki…obviously.”
“That was very sweet of you.”
I peeked inside and noticed the last item was a bottle of cabernet.
“That’s for you,” he said. “I figured you could use it tonight.”
“Damn right. Thank you.”
“I didn’t think to ask you if you drink wine—with all of your food issues. But you mentioned drinking the night you were out with that Brian tool.”
“I do drink wine, just in moderation. But I will definitely be partaking in this tonight.”
“Would you prefer that I leave and let you relax?”
I paused. Telling him to leave after he’d gone to the store for me didn’t seem right. But more than that, did I want him to leave? I’d been enjoying his company tonight, despite everything.
“Just give me a few minutes while I go tend to her. Make yourself comfortable in the living room.”
“Cool.” He smiled.
I took the supplies Troy had bought to Kiki’s room and had her go to the bathroom and change. After she returned, I gave her the pink, stuffed unicorn.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Troy picked it up from the market.”
“It’s for me?”
“It is.”
Kiki stared down at it before hugging it to her chest. “Tell him I said thank you.”
“You don’t want to tell him yourself?”
She shook her head. “I just wanna go to bed.”
I couldn’t blame her. “Okay.” I kissed her on the head. “I understand. Holler if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.”
Troy was watching TV when I returned to the living room.
He lowered the volume. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. She wants to go to sleep early.” I sat across from him. “Thank you again for going to the store. You saved the day. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” He grinned. “What do you say we crack open the wine?”
“Yeah.” I stood up. “That would be great. We can sit right out back. It’s a nice night.”
“I’ll bring out the special dessert I brought you. It’s something you can eat. At least I hope I got it right.”
“I totally forgot about that Tupperware you walked in with. I have to say, you have me curious.”
“Go make yourself comfortable. I’ll take care of everything.”
Well, I wasn’t going to argue with that—certainly not tonight. “The wine glasses are up there,” I said, pointing to the cupboard. “There’s an opener in the second drawer from the left.”
I couldn’t remember the last time a man had told me to make myself comfortable while he prepared a glass of wine for me. Troy might have had his faults, but he seemed to know how to take care of a woman when she needed it.
My imagination, of course, took the opportunity to run wild with all of the various ways Troy might take care of me.
Troy
I carried the bottle of wine and two glasses outside with the Tupperware container tucked under my arm. Crickets chirped, and the weather was cool and comfortable on this dry, summer night. To say this evening had turned out nothing like I’d imagined it, though, would be putting it lightly.
I poured us each a glass of the cabernet before reaching for the Tupperware.
Rubbing over the top of the container, I said, “Okay, I wanna preface this by saying these probably taste like dirt. So, go easy on me. It was my first time baking anything like this.”
“You baked something?”
“I did. I like to bake, actually. I’m not much of a cook, but cookies? I’m the cookie master. I know you can’t have sugar—or gluten or dairy. So, I Googled around for paleo desserts. I found this recipe for banana cookies. They’re sweetened with ripe banana and dates and made with almond flour.” I panicked for a second. “Shit, you can have eggs, right?”
“Yes, in moderation.”
“Phew. Okay.”
She looked down at the Tupperware and smiled. “This was amazingly thoughtful of you.”
“I tried one earlier just to make sure they didn’t taste like shit.”
Her brow lifted. “And?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell. They’re not horrible, but…”
“Well, I’ll definitely try one since you went through the effort of making them.”
When she reached for the container, I felt my pulse race a little. That was a new feeling for me—getting nervous about someone trying a recipe I’d made. What was my life coming to?
Aspyn took a bite and closed her eyes to concentrate on the taste. She chewed for a while before she finally said, “They’re not bad!”
“Really? Be honest.”
“They taste like…bananas…and dates…and a hint of plaster.”
“Ouch.” I laughed.
“Seriously, it’s so hard to bake without dairy, flour, and sugar. It’s like a science experiment. I give you a lot of credit for even trying.”
“I shouldn’t give up my day job, right?”
“Probably not.” She took another bite. “But I swear, they’re not bad. In fact, these will be even better warmed in the microwave with coffee in the morning.”
“Or you could toss them in the trash after I leave. I won’t be offended.”
“I won’t.” She smiled.
Taking a long sip of my wine, I leaned back and relaxed into the chair. “This night was certainly unexpected.”
She stared up at the sky. “You’re telling me.”
“It really showed me how different your life is. How much responsibility you have. I mean, I go home, and all I have to do is feed Patrick.”
Aspyn squinted. “Patrick?”
“My dad’s cat. He’s certainly not gonna get his period.”
“Let’s hope not.” She cackled for a long minute, and then wiped her eyes. “God, I needed that laugh. Thank you.”
“It’s good to see you laugh, Aspyn.”
“Sometimes I have to laugh so I don’t cry.” She took another sip of her wine. “Tell me more about Patrick.”
I crossed my legs. “Well… Patrick is a tabby cat with a fat head and no neck. He likes his belly massaged and to rub his asshole on my feet occasionally. He’s pretty good about using the litterbox, but conveniently misses when he’s been neglected. He’s also got agoraphobia.”
She chuckled. “How do you know he’s agoraphobic? Did he tell you?”
“It’s obvious. He doesn’t like to go out. He went ballistic on me when I tried to get him into the crate to take him to the vet the other day.”
“Well, he’s an indoor cat, I assume?”
“Yeah.”
She gestured with her glass. “So, what do you expect? You train him to be inside when it’s convenient for you and then force him out into the world randomly.”
“I guess that’s true.”