They each plunged back into their respective lives as if nothing at all unusual had happened that weekend—Clay was busy with the ranch, she assumed, since she hadn't heard from him, and Elodie buried herself in work and painting.
One night Elodie came home and there was a light on in her apartment. She checked the parking lot and spotted a little red Mini, and knew that Joshua had dropped by. Despite the fact that she'd just worked a double to try to afford the coat she didn't want but which Clay wanted her to have, Elodie sprinted up the stairs and into her apartment, only to be crushed in a bear hug the moment she opened the door.
"Elodie!"
Joshua was a thin, small man, but he gave huge, wonderful, all out hugs, and she felt herself let go and relax against him. It was the first time she'd felt relaxed since things had started to develop with Clay.
"Joshua! It's so good to see you!" She hugged him back, but she knew that her hugs weren't nearly as fantastic as his were.
He leaned back and kissed her, then returned to the small galley kitchen where he began stirring a pot. "I was just going to leave a contribution to the 'feed a starving artiste' fund. I thought you worked mornings on Tuesdays?"
Elodie crowded into the kitchen with him and took a deep breath of the fragrant steam from the pot of whatever it was he had on the burner. It smelled like pure heaven to her. The restaurant where she worked didn't have the usual policy towards employees; that they could eat there free of charge. Instead, they gave a small discount on the price of a meal, and since Elodie could eat more cheaply at home, she almost never ate what she served all day long.
The truth was, she didn't eat much at all. Once she got home, food didn't even enter the picture; all she wanted to do was either sleep or paint. Nine times out of ten, painting won out over sleep.
"Yeah, I do, but today I did a double."
Joshua stopped stirring long enough to give her a glare that reminded her uncomfortably of Clay. "Is the Bill Fairy going to have to pay you a visit again?" he asked, pulling his gold, wire-rimmed glasses down his nose and giving her his best schoolmarm imitation.
"No, he is not! I still owe the Bill Fairy from the last bailout!" She watched as he began to ladle his famous Not French Onion soup into four of the oven proof bowls he'd accidentally left at her place. That soup in particular was a favorite of Elodie's, Joshua knew. It was unlike French Onion soup because it was nowhere near as salty. The base wasn't beef broth, as was the norm, but rather a lighter vegetable broth, chock full of all sorts of onions—not just the usual Spanish, but Vidalia and red and shallots and scallions, along with just a hint of garlic and white wine.
There was no chunk of soggy bread in the middle of Joshua's soup, either. Both he and Elodie detested that, so instead he had made some homemade garlic bread that was crisp and hot from the oven. After topping the soup bowls with mounds of cheese, he set them under the broiler long enough to melt it and grabbed two large soup spoons from the drawer, giving her one.
They both stood there, staring at the ancient gold oven as if it held the secret to immortality. The minute or so that it took to melt the cheese seemed like forever when you were waiting to feel all that warm, oniony goodness making your mouth happy.
When it was ready, they fairly descended on it, each grabbing a bowl on a plate and several slices of garlic bread for dunking, then making their way to Elodie's tiny living room, where he had already parked a two liter bottle of chilled white wine in ice in a cooler, and strategically positioned two empty glasses.
Elodie broke through the slight resistance of the browned cheese to the liquid goodness beneath, sighing in ecstasy with the first swallow. In complete seriousness, she asked, "Joshua, will you marry me?"
Involved in his own gastronomic orgy a few feet away, Joshua ignored her. She always proposed to him when he cooked for her. She was easy.
Minutes later, when they were both sated but still looking forward to their second bowl, Joshua asked in a deliberately casual voice, "So what's this I hear about you dating Clay?"
Elodie's spoon clanged noisily into her bowl. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he admonished gently. "You guys went out to Red Creek week before last, and went to a movie last weekend."
"Jeez, Joshua, stalking me any?" Startled but not angry, Elodie got up and headed for round two of everything.
She could hear his snort behind her. "Small towns make stalking a waste of energy," he called, then appeared at the kitchen doorway, content to wait while she served herself.
"Uh huh. Lovely. I'd forgotten the gossip quotient in this place." She moved past him, back to the living room.
"Yep—so get ready to spill when I get back in there."
Elodie tried to busy herself with her soup, but no such luck.
Joshua positioned himself back in his chair, and even before he took his first scoop of melted cheese and broth, he stared at her and said, "Dish."