As soon as she saw me standing next to the dining table with my hands shoved in my pockets, her steps slowed down and her eyes darted between the set table and me.
“Jack? You need my help with something?” she asked, holding the tissue up to her nose and sniffling.
“Yes.” I walked around her and pulled out the chair she was standing next to. “I need your help with finishing this food.”
She glanced at me over her shoulder, fidgeting. “Jack—”
“You haven’t eaten anything today, Rose.” I softened my tone and looked into her eyes. “You only have three hours then you won’t be able to eat or drink anything anyway. I don’t want to eat alone, so you’re going to eat with me.”
She worried her lips between her teeth and nodded. “You’re right, I should eat something. Just give me a minute so I can do something about my nose.”
Turning around in her socks with a whoosh, she hurried away to the bathroom.
When she came back with a cotton ball in her nose, she sat down on the chair, and I helped her get closer to the table.
I took my seat across from her and reached for her plate, only to have her grasp it midair.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m trying to wrestle the plate away from you.” I gave her plate a gentle tug and she let it go. “Tonight, you get to be spoiled.”
Finally the smile that touched her lips was genuine. “Pity night, huh?”
I shrugged. I wouldn’t have called it that, but if she wanted to think of it in those terms, keeping my mouth shut would be a better option. I reached for the big serving dish and started to pile spaghetti onto her plate.
Rose leaned forward and reached for my hand, placing her fingers on my wrist when I was about to go in for more spaghetti. A small smile was blooming on her face. “I think that’s more than enough for me, don’t you think?”
I took another look at her plate and decided it would do. I could always sneak more onto her plate when she was done. I let go of the spaghetti spoon and reached for the Bolognese sauce. She tried to stop me after the second spoonful, but I sneaked another one in.
When I lifted my eyes, she was smiling at me. It was a lot closer to what her usual smile looked like, so I started to relax.
“Fresh thyme?”
Her grin got bigger, and she nodded again.
“I like this side of you.”
“Which side?” I asked distractedly.
“This domestic side. It suits you.”
When her plate was ready, I handed it to her, and she had to hold it with two hands before she could put it down in front of her. Leaning over the food, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“This smells amazing. You were right, I’m starving.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her even as I grabbed my own plate and started the same process.
“I’m always right.”
She arched her eyebrows at me, her grin turning more playful. “Easy there. I wouldn’t say always.”
“I would. Come on, time is ticking. Start eating.”
“You are always bossy, though—that’s definitely true.”
After giving her a pointed stare, I waited for her to start, and she took her time, getting more comfortable in her chair and then finally started eating.
After chewing for a few seconds, she closed her eyes and groaned before finally swallowing. Satisfied that she would keep eating, I started on my own.
“Where did you get this from? It’s incredible.”
“Glad you like it.”
“Is it a secret place? God! This is so good, Jack!”
I kept chewing and then swallowed under her expectant gaze.
“I made it. It’s not takeout.”
She stopped with her fork a few inches away from her mouth and lowered it. “You cook?”
“Sometimes, if I have the time.”
That earned another beautiful smile, and I decided I would always cook for her on Mondays, pasta or whatever she wanted.
“You’re amazing.” She had started chewing but stopped. “Meaning, this is amazing—the pasta.”
“I’ll cook on Mondays.”
She swallowed, hard. “You cook on Mondays?”
I shook my head and reached for my water glass. “No, I’ll start cooking for us on Mondays. I enjoy spending time in the kitchen.”
“Can I watch it? Next Monday? Or do you not like company? Oh, and of course if the surgery goes well and—”
My eyes met hers. “You don’t want to finish that sentence. I don’t like company, but I like you. You can watch.”
“Jack I believe we’re flirting.”
I grunted.
“Every Monday, promise?”
I looked into her eyes. “Whenever you want, Rose.”
“Then I should pick a day to cook, too.”
We continued eating.
“If your cooking is as good as your baking, I’ll be there.”
“I enjoy cooking when it’s not just for me. Are Mondays gonna be pasta day?”
“Do you want to make it pasta day?”
She smiled, her head bobbing up and down. “I think I’d like that. It’ll be our first tradition.”
Her tone of voice had changed with her last words, so I looked up from my plate to find her smiling at me. My night was already made.
“Pasta day it is then.”
“So, tomorrow—”
“Nope. I don’t want to talk about tomorrow tonight, if that’s okay.” Slowly she put down her fork and steadied her eyes on me. “I’m completely aware that I’m being a complete—let me correct that, I have been a complete diva about this whole sickness thing. I’m also well aware that compared to some illnesses, this is nothing, but my issue is that I’m simply scared. It’s too close to my brain for my liking and it’s really bothering me. I don’t like that I’ll be under anesthesia and I won’t know what’s going on, not that I would want to know or want to be awake even if that was an option… I’m especially grateful that it’s going to be endoscopic surgery instead of cracking open my skull like they used to do back in the day, because that would probably kill me, but…I’m still scared. I told you, I’m afraid of giving blood, so a surgery…” She shook her head vehemently. “And the timing couldn’t have been worse.”
I parted my lips, but she stopped me from saying what was on my mind.
“Like I said, tonight I want to act like tomorrow will be just another normal day. I just want to enjoy this amazing dinner you very sneakily cooked for us and then try to see what else I can milk out of my situation. I’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”
“We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow,” I corrected her, and received a nod in response. “What else did you want to milk out of your situation?” I asked, trying to look only mildly curious. I already knew I would do whatever it was she wanted to do.
Her smile came back in full force. “I thought you’d never ask. So…” She scooted forward in her seat, rolling spaghetti onto her fork, eyes on mine. “Remember how you said you’d never watched You’ve Got Mail? I thought a cozy movie would be perfect for tonight. It’s not a wishy-washy film either. I promise you won’t be bored. Any movie that has Tom Hanks in it is amazing, and his on-screen chemistry with Meg Ryan is absolutely perfect. I’m sure you—”