“Favorite color.” He beamed.

“Look at you,” I teased. “You still remember.” I accepted the drink, deciding it was best to stop talking about his deceitful friends and his deceased wife. I took a quick sip, my taste buds going into a heavenly rage, flooded with tangy lime. “Wow! This is really good.”

“I added a little something to the margarita mix before you got here. Can you taste it?”

“No.” I shook my head. “But it’s great. What is it?”

“That would be spoiling it.”

“Just tell me,” I laughed.

He took a sip of his and placed the glass on the marble countertop, folding his arms. “Just a few drops of cherry flavor.”

“Wow… never would’ve guessed that one. I was thinking strawberry or raspberry.”

“Close.” He walked to the fridge, pulling out a glass bowl with potato salad inside.

“So, cooking, huh?” I inquired, lifting my brows as I smiled at him. “It’s what you do to pass the time now?”

“It… helps.” He put the bowl down and then grabbed two plates from the cabinet above. “See, I went to therapy because my mom thought I could use it. I don’t believe in therapy and, luckily, my therapist understood that, so he told me to find something to do that can distract my mind, ease my discomfort. An outlet.”

“When did you go into therapy?”

He was hesitant, avoiding my eyes. “About three months after you left.” And only a month before you met your girl toy. “I started to… spiral. Instead of going to work I’d go to the bar. My mom dropped by one day to check on me, saw me looking and feeling like utter shit, and signed me up, refusing to argue with me about it.” He sighed. “I’m grateful. Mom always knows best, right?”

“Hmm… most moms.”

“Speaking of, where is yours? Never see her car parked up front anymore.”

“Well, my mom decided to be a bitch and turn into a travel-happy cougar.”

He busted out laughing. “Cougar? Really? Young guy? I can’t picture it.”

“Really? ‘Cause I can. He can’t be too much older than I am.” I cringed. “Kinda… weird after seeing her with my dad all my life.”

“So she just flaked out… left your dad here to take care of himself?”

“She got Margie for him, and luckily we can trust her. She’s a really sweet woman. Her number one concern is my dad, so that’s good I guess.”

“Yeah.” He placed his palms on the counter, his muscles flexing without effort. I looked away from his arms, but then my eyes met his. Damn it, wrong place. I was supposed to look down or to my left, even to my right. But, no. I looked up, trapping myself.

Our eyes fastened—clinked. And when they did, it was hard to look away.

Man, he was truly a beautiful sight to see—a sight for sore eyes as they say. His gaze traveled down to my lips, lingering there for just a moment before he tore them away, picking up his margarita and turning for the potato salad again.

“Well, how about we eat and forget about reality for just a little while. I was told food is a good way to comfort the soul.”

I agreed with a nod. “Sure. Let me go wash my hands really quick. I’ll be back, I swear.” His eyebrows rose, amused by my last remark. I was out of the kitchen, mentally cursing at myself for the last thing I said. “You’ll be back?” I muttered under my breath once entering the bathroom. What the hell did I even mean? Where else are you gonna go?

I gripped the edges of the cool porcelain counter, staring at myself in the mirror. Familiar hazel eyes sparkled from the lighting above, the pit of my belly still fluttering.

I felt… different. Relieved? Perky? I don’t know. I just know I felt totally different here than I did in my own house. Like all of my worries had vanished for a while and nothing mattered but the food, drinks, and… Theo.

Just Theo.

Always Theo.

Duh, Theo!

Shaking my head swiftly, I turned the knobs and stuck my hands beneath the stream of water. I then brought my wet hands to my face, rubbing beneath my eyes and looking at myself again.

It’s just dinner, Chloe. It’s just dinner. Get over yourself.

Shutting off the water, I dried off my hands and then walked out again. Theo wasn’t in the kitchen when I returned. Frowning, I called his name, and he responded from the deck, his voice a short distance away. It was then that I noticed our drinks weren’t at the counter. Nor were our plates or the food. I walked out, my bare feet landing on the smooth wood.

He sat at the round table in the corner, the food set up with two China plates across from each other.

“Figured we could eat out here. Feels good tonight.”

I looked from him to the stars in the sky, gripping the door handle. The wind bristled by me, flowing through my hair, wrapping me up in its comforting breeze. It was a very good night to eat outside, so I walked ahead, taking the seat across from him.

He had a smile on his lips, observing me as I got comfortable. “What?” I laughed.

“Nothing.” He pressed his lips, picked up a fork, and stuck it into one of the steaks, placing it on my plate. “Help yourself to whatever.”

I browsed my selection, eyes moving from the potato salad to the green beans and then the yellow rice. I helped myself to the rice and green beans, deciding to eat the potato salad last.

“Actually,” Theo said, and when I looked up he was still peering at me, gaze inquisitive. I straightened my back, becoming insecure as he scanned me. “I just wanted to let you know that you look great tonight. Really great. I’m digging this modern hippie thing you have going on.”

“Oh.” I bit a smile, digging my fork into the green beans. “Uh, thank you.” See, I knew someone would love it. Mariah hated how I dressed, and Izzy didn’t understand the choices I made whenever we shopped, but Theo liked it. My heart went wild.

He nodded and cut into his steak. Our talking during dinner was minimal. Other than the music he had playing from the sound system in the living room, we hardly spoke.

We did chat about little things, like other meals he’d learned how to make, how he now had more than enough employees at his shop to run it, and how he didn’t even have to work at the shop himself anymore. He was very proud about that. He’d finally made it to a position in life where he could do what he wanted all day long, and still make money. I was proud of him for it. It was all he ever used to talk about. His shop. His dreams. It was great.

After dinner, we went to the kitchen for another round of margaritas, and I even had a slice of key lime pie he’d prepared. It was delicious. That cooking hobby of his worked out wonderfully.

I finally checked the time on my cell phone when our glasses were empty and our pies half-eaten. It was nearing 11 PM. I couldn’t believe how quickly time had passed. Although it was a little awkward at first and, yes, there was an oversized elephant in the room, I had a great time. I refused to speak on said elephant. Speaking on it was a risk, one I didn’t want to take. I didn’t want to ruin such a great night.

“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s getting late. I should get going. Check on my dad.”

“Right—shit, yeah.” I was sure he meant to sound enthusiastic, but his tone was far from it. It was somewhat deflated. I detected the defeat in his eyes, how my absence would soon bring back loneliness. I hated it, but this was no excuse. Although Margie was there, I wanted to check on Dad myself. She needed a break, some sleep after dealing with him all day long.

“I can… maybe swing by sometime later this week? Bring some pizza or something. I won’t attempt trying to cook,” I laughed.

He rubbed his forehead as he followed me to the garage door. “Yeah, sure. Just let me know. My schedule is pretty clear now. Don’t do too much these days.”

I stepped into my sandals and then walked out. The light was now off in the garage. I stepped into the night, but I could still see him from the lights shining from the kitchen and hallway.