a few?”
“Of
course. I still have to make a couple of things, anyway, so take your time.”
Ryan
walks to the bathroom and I turn the burner on for the water to boil. I spread
some butter and mashed garlic on a nice loaf of Italian bread I bought at the
market and put it in the oven. I look at the table and think it would be a nice
touch to set it and make it look pretty.
I take
out two real plates and salad bowls instead of the regular paper products and
take out tins we’re used to. I want Ryan to have a nice memory of me and our
time here—I think this will be perfect. I look down at myself and suddenly wish
I was wearing something nicer than leggings and a flannel, but it would feel
strange to dress any different for dinner at home.
The
bathroom door opens and Ryan walks out in a towel. This is the second time in
two days he’s done this. Maybe he knows it’s making me feel awkward and getting
a kick out of it. More likely, though, he just has no clue and doesn’t care
anymore since he knows he’s leaving.
He
smiles at me and walks into his bedroom to dress. I’m thankful for the
champagne. I don’t know if Ryan is going to want to drink again, but I sure
need some help relaxing.
“So,
what’s on the menu?” Ryan asks, entering the kitchen.
“Salad,
pan roasted chicken with rosemary, pasta, and garlic bread.”
“And
you set the table? Damn, girl. You really know how to make a guy feel special.
Who knew?”
“I have
many hidden talents,” I reply, taking a bow.
“This
may be the first time I’ve seen you cook. I hope it tastes as good as it
smells.”
“Me
too,” I laugh. “But first, a toast.” I open the fridge and take the bottle of
champagne from the back. I expertly pop the cork and fill the two glasses I had
taken out earlier. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,”
Ryan replies, clinking my glass. “Thank you for doing all of this. If I didn’t
know better, I would think you were trying to seduce me—or poison me, but I’m
pretty sure you’re not trying to kill me. If you haven’t by now, I think I’m
okay.”
“Ryan.
I didn’t mean…”
“Oh,
please, Eve. I’m only messing with you,” Ryan laughs. “I know you’re not
looking to get in my pants, and I hope you’re not trying to kill me.”
I’m
relieved. I’ve been so caught up in my new feelings for Ryan that I think he
might be on to me. He’s kind of intuitive for a man, so he must have some idea,
but I don’t want him to think I’ve planned a night of romance for the two of
us.
“Good.
I don’t want you to think anything like that. I just wanted to give you
something to remember me by,” I explain nervously. “I wanted to buy you
something, but I couldn’t find anything that I liked. Nothing felt right.”
“I
don’t need anything, Eve. Not even this dinner, although I’m really happy you
went through all this trouble for me. It means a lot.” Ryan smiles at me.
“We’ve made so many memories together already. That’s all I need.”
An
awkward silence lingers between us and we each take a sip of champagne. Mine is
more like a giant gulp and I finish off the glass and pour another.
“So,
how about we eat so we can get to packing?” I suggest, breaking the silence.
“Sounds
good. Let’s eat,” Ryan says.
We sit
down to one of the most formal meals we’ve eaten here, and it actually tastes
good. The snow falling outside our small window is a nice touch. We make some conversation
and talk about what he and his crazy friends did last night. He lets me know
his plans and what AGR did to set him up when he gets to California. It sounds
like he’s getting the star treatment already, and I’m so happy for him.
Ryan
and I finish our meal and together clean the table and wash all the dishes. I
pour us each another glass of champagne. We’re not drunk, but it’s definitely
helping to keep
“Of
course. I still have to make a couple of things, anyway, so take your time.”
Ryan
walks to the bathroom and I turn the burner on for the water to boil. I spread
some butter and mashed garlic on a nice loaf of Italian bread I bought at the
market and put it in the oven. I look at the table and think it would be a nice
touch to set it and make it look pretty.
I take
out two real plates and salad bowls instead of the regular paper products and
take out tins we’re used to. I want Ryan to have a nice memory of me and our
time here—I think this will be perfect. I look down at myself and suddenly wish
I was wearing something nicer than leggings and a flannel, but it would feel
strange to dress any different for dinner at home.
The
bathroom door opens and Ryan walks out in a towel. This is the second time in
two days he’s done this. Maybe he knows it’s making me feel awkward and getting
a kick out of it. More likely, though, he just has no clue and doesn’t care
anymore since he knows he’s leaving.
He
smiles at me and walks into his bedroom to dress. I’m thankful for the
champagne. I don’t know if Ryan is going to want to drink again, but I sure
need some help relaxing.
“So,
what’s on the menu?” Ryan asks, entering the kitchen.
“Salad,
pan roasted chicken with rosemary, pasta, and garlic bread.”
“And
you set the table? Damn, girl. You really know how to make a guy feel special.
Who knew?”
“I have
many hidden talents,” I reply, taking a bow.
“This
may be the first time I’ve seen you cook. I hope it tastes as good as it
smells.”
“Me
too,” I laugh. “But first, a toast.” I open the fridge and take the bottle of
champagne from the back. I expertly pop the cork and fill the two glasses I had
taken out earlier. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,”
Ryan replies, clinking my glass. “Thank you for doing all of this. If I didn’t
know better, I would think you were trying to seduce me—or poison me, but I’m
pretty sure you’re not trying to kill me. If you haven’t by now, I think I’m
okay.”
“Ryan.
I didn’t mean…”
“Oh,
please, Eve. I’m only messing with you,” Ryan laughs. “I know you’re not
looking to get in my pants, and I hope you’re not trying to kill me.”
I’m
relieved. I’ve been so caught up in my new feelings for Ryan that I think he
might be on to me. He’s kind of intuitive for a man, so he must have some idea,
but I don’t want him to think I’ve planned a night of romance for the two of
us.
“Good.
I don’t want you to think anything like that. I just wanted to give you
something to remember me by,” I explain nervously. “I wanted to buy you
something, but I couldn’t find anything that I liked. Nothing felt right.”
“I
don’t need anything, Eve. Not even this dinner, although I’m really happy you
went through all this trouble for me. It means a lot.” Ryan smiles at me.
“We’ve made so many memories together already. That’s all I need.”
An
awkward silence lingers between us and we each take a sip of champagne. Mine is
more like a giant gulp and I finish off the glass and pour another.
“So,
how about we eat so we can get to packing?” I suggest, breaking the silence.
“Sounds
good. Let’s eat,” Ryan says.
We sit
down to one of the most formal meals we’ve eaten here, and it actually tastes
good. The snow falling outside our small window is a nice touch. We make some conversation
and talk about what he and his crazy friends did last night. He lets me know
his plans and what AGR did to set him up when he gets to California. It sounds
like he’s getting the star treatment already, and I’m so happy for him.
Ryan
and I finish our meal and together clean the table and wash all the dishes. I
pour us each another glass of champagne. We’re not drunk, but it’s definitely
helping to keep
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