Chapter 22

He lifted the glass and touched it to mine. I raised an eyebrow in a silent “cheers,” and we both took a sip. “Mmmmmmmm,” he intoned. “This wine helps a lot.” We were pressed up against each other, which raised the literal and figurative temperature by several degrees. There seemed to be no escaping his belly in the small kitchen, which we both recognized. “I’ve got this pretty much under control,” he assured me, “and it’ll be ready soon.”

I backed up a few steps out of the kitchen, into the path of the light, late-summer breeze. “Maybe I could set the…” I looked uncertainly around the living room and kitchen, searching for but not finding a “table?”

His shoulders rose and fell with his chuckles. “Yeah, a table’s on my list. I was kind of figuring we’d have bowls on the couch.”