He buries his head between his front paws. He looks really sad and it's making me sad. I pick him up, expecting him to scratch me or hiss at me. He used to do that after the accident so I stopped picking him up and just left him alone. But today he doesn't fight me and his body relaxes in my arms.
I pet his head. "I miss him too. I miss all of them." I feel tears slipping down my cheek but I quickly wipe them away and take some deep breaths, forcing the tears to end. I'm trying to get over this, and crying about it is not getting over it. I've cried enough. Now I need to be strong and move on. It's a slow, painful process but eventually I'll feel better. I know I will. I have to. I can't go on like this forever.
Cat softly purrs as I pet his silky coat. "If I bring you to the kitchen, will you stay?"
He looks up at me with those big green eyes. I don't know what that means. Is he agreeing to it? I guess I'll find out. I take him to the kitchen and set him next to the little cat bed that's off to the side. Cat used to sit there while my mom and I made dinner. Ben would go over and pet him or bring him toys. Cat hasn't sat in that bed since the accident.
I watch as he skitters away from the bed. He runs past me but I catch him and pick him up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you there. You just stay by me, okay?"
When I set him down, he goes over to the door that leads to the back yard and looks out the glass panel. Is he looking for Nash? No, that can't be. He only met him one time. Maybe a bird caught his attention.
I wash up and get to work on the sauce. It needs to simmer a few hours to let the flavors develop. As I'm working, I glance over and see Cat sitting there watching me. I'm shocked he hasn't run back to Ben's room. I cover the sauce and let it simmer, then take a quick shower and change into shorts and a tank.
At six-fifteen, I set the table on the back deck. I didn't want to eat inside because I don't want Nash in my house. He'll see their things and ask questions.
Hiding this from him was stupid. I should've just told him, but I didn't because I thought I'd meet him one time and that'd be it, so I wasn't going to tell him something so personal. After we met, I thought he'd keep to himself, but instead he won't leave me alone. Now I'm embarrassed to tell him the truth. He'll think I'm crazy. I just need to make it through tonight and then I'll avoid him from here on out. If we're not friends, he doesn't need to know about my family. Neighbors don't need to know that stuff.
The bread is done and I take it out of the oven. I used butter and herbs but left out the garlic, not because I plan on anything happening with Nash tonight. I just simply forgot to add it, or at least that's what I'm telling myself. I transfer the pasta to a large bowl and add my homemade sauce, tossing it all together.
I like spending time in the kitchen again; chopping, mixing, stirring. It's a good distraction. Better than watching TV. And I like having the aroma of a home-cooked meal fill the house. Usually I have cold sandwiches or cereal for dinner, so the house hasn't smelled like this for a long time. And as much as I was annoyed at Nash for inviting himself over, it will be nice to not be eating alone.
"Hey, Callie, can I come in?" It's Nash, standing at the screen door that leads to the deck.
"We're going to eat out there so you can just wait on the deck."
He comes in anyway. Of course. He never listens.
"I need to give you this." He hands me a bottle of red wine and some purple wildflowers.
"What's all this?"
"Wine to go with the meal. And I picked the flowers from my back yard. Turns out there's a patch of wildflowers mixed in with the weeds I still need to cut down."
"You didn't have to bring me this stuff." I set the wine on the counter, then grab a big plastic cup from under the sink for the flowers.
"When you show up for dinner at someone's house, you have to bring something." Nash leans against the counter, grinning at me. "That's a hint, by the way."
"You're saying I should've brought you something last night?"
He shrugs. "You didn't have to, but it is good manners to do so."
"So now I don't have good manners?" I stuff the flowers in the cup. "I'm pretty sure insulting the hostess is not good manners."
"I wasn't insulting you. I simply pointed out the fact that it's often nice to bring something to the person hosting the dinner." He reaches over and turns the water on in the sink as I hold the cup under it.
"I brought you a pie last night."
"That was from Lou." He smiles.
I sigh in exasperation. "You're impossible. I don't think I'll make it through this dinner."
He just laughs.
"Here." I hand him the flowers. "Take these outside. They'll be our centerpiece."
For once he does as I ask, but instead of staying out there, he comes right back.
"You can just wait out there," I tell him as I toss the pasta once more to distribute the sauce.
"I'd rather be in here with you." He stands behind me, leaning over my shoulder and taking a deep breath. "That smells amazing. It looks good too. I thought you couldn't cook."
"I never said that."
He's standing so close I can smell his cologne. Or maybe it's just soap. Whatever it is, it smells really good.