I clear my throat, attention back on my son. “I wish you would have told me you were coming over.”
David laughs a little at that. “I think what you meant to say was, thank you, son, that is so kind of you!”
I roll my eyes, but it does earn him a little grin. “Thank you, son. That is so kind of you. But next time, a little warning, please?”
He just smiles and gets back to what he was doing.
“I’ll make us some dinner,” I say, not knowing what to do now but knowing that I, at the very least, needed to get away from shirtless Greg. “Goulash sound good?”
Greg groans, peeking out from under the sink again. “I haven’t had that in ages.”
Something tingles inside my chest, making me smile, but I quickly turn and head for the kitchen. “Alright, then. Goulash it is. You boys don’t work too hard.”
Yes. Boys. Let’s drive that point home.
I make a pit stop in my bedroom, grabbing a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt to change into. I use the guest bath to do so, and then I pop back downstairs, turn on one of my playlists on the kitchen speaker, and start on dinner.
I long for a glass of wine, almost whimpering when I realize I still shouldn’t have one.
I pour a tall glass of cold water, instead, and sing along to my playlist as I dice onions and tomatoes and peppers and garlic, tossing it all in the skillet before adding the meat to brown. I add the dry pasta next, along with all the seasonings, and then bring it to a simmer.
I’m thankful for the task, for something to do to keep my mind off the fact that Greg is here. Shirtless. But my distraction is cut short when David slips through the kitchen, phone to his ear, and mouths to me it’s Julia before dipping out the sliding glass door to the back patio.
Greg is there the next second, wiping his forehead with a rag before hanging it over his shoulder and leaning his palms on the small kitchen island counter, his eyes on me.
I gulp down a large drink of water, turning back to the stove. “Get it all done?”
“We did. You want to feel the difference?”
I feel the difference, alright.
“I trust you,” I say quickly, replacing the lid on the goulash. If I mess with it too much, it won’t cook the way it needs to. So, with nothing else to keep my focus on, I turn back to Greg. “Thanks for helping him. I’m sure you have more important things to do. But if he asks you again, feel free to decline. Regardless of how he makes it seem, I’m not helpless.”
“I know that,” Greg says, standing tall again. “I’ve known that for years.”
His eyes hold mine, and I swallow, but can’t tear my gaze away.
Greg glances out back before rounding the island, closing the distance between us. “Amanda, I’m sorry about Friday. I…” His lips press together in a tight line, like he doesn’t want to apologize at all. “I crossed a line.”
I just nod, keeping my eyes on his and away from his torso.
“Please, take my car.”
I immediately open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.
“It would make me feel a lot better about the whole situation if you would.”
I close my mouth again, frowning.
“We don’t have to make things weird between us. Okay?” He pauses. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really happy to have reconnected with you. David, too. It feels…” He grabs the back of his neck and shrugs. “I don’t know. A little like coming home, I guess.”
My heart.
“And I know it makes you uncomfortable. You don’t like getting handouts. So, I was thinking, and I know how you can pay me back. That way you wouldn’t feel like it’s a free ride.” He smirks at that. “No pun intended.”
I narrow my gaze. “Pay you back,” I repeat. “How?”
Another glance outside to confirm David is on the phone with his wife, and Greg moves in a bit closer. “Be my accountability partner.”
I snort, crossing my arms as I look unabashedly at his ridiculously defined abdomen. “Greg, I hate to break it to you, but I can tell very easily that you make it to the gym just fine on your own.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up at that, and he follows my gaze to his stomach before looking back at me with an arched brow. “That’s not what I meant, but feel free to go on.”
I shove him then, rolling my eyes and turning back to the goulash. I give it a stir as Greg circles me to stand next to the stove.
“Look, the way I see it, we’ve both missed out on life. In different ways, of course, but… Well, you dedicated most of yours to your son and to Josh.”
My hand pauses mid-stir at the mention of his name.
“And I’ve been devoted to med school and now my job at Bayside.”
I frown. “Okay… what does this have to do with anything?”
“Here’s what I’m proposing,” he says, waiting until I look at him to continue. “We make a list. A bucket list of sorts. Things we’ve always wanted to do but never have. And then, we hold each other accountable to actually do those things.” He shrugs. “You’re a little lost, from what you told me, and trying to find yourself again. I need to release work and live a little. We have a mutual goal.”
I frown, tending to the goulash a moment more before replacing the lid. I fold my arms and think on the proposal. “Accountability partners,” I echo. But already, I’m shaking my head. “I don’t know…”
“Of course, you don’t. The last thing you want is someone making sure you get out and do what you want to do because then you actually have to follow through.”
I frown even deeper, and he smirks, stepping closer.
Close.
So close I can smell him over the spices in the air.
“Come on,” he pleads, his eyes searching mine. “Do you honestly have someone who will push you out of your comfort zone and not let you sit on the couch drinking red wine every night?”
I hold my chin up defensively. “I like my wine and couch nights, thank you.”
He chuckles. “And you can still have them. But… with a side of adventure, too.”
I bite my lip, considering.
He does have a point. Without a friend to drag me out of the house, the likelihood of me ever leaving for anything other than errands or school is slim to none. I’m comfortable in my loneliness — perhaps too much so.
But spending time with him? That’s dangerous. He and I both know it.
Seeing that I’m still not convinced, Greg takes a small step back, giving me space. “Besides, you’re dating for the first time really ever,” he reminds me, as if I could forget. “I can help with that, too.”
I lift my brows at that, because though I hate to admit it, I need all the help I can manage in that department.
Still…
“And what can I offer you?” I challenge. “If this is supposed to be about me paying you back for letting me use your car for a while.”
He shrugs. “Ideas. Motivation. Again, accountability. Trust me, if someone doesn’t force my hand, I’ll live and die in that hospital without thinking twice about it.” He pauses, eyes finding mine. “I need you, too.”
My heart stops, kicking back to life with a force that makes me suck in a breath of air.