Regardless, I was determined. It had to be done. I was just about to say yes when I remembered that the fall semester started next week.
“Oh shoot.” I made a fist with my hand. “I have class on Thursday night.”
“No biggie. Lunch?”
“I eat lunch!” I immediately scrunched my face at my overeager response.
Dan made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Oh, really? You do?”
“Yes. I do.” My eyes still closed, I shook my head at myself.
“What a coincidence. I—also—eat lunch.”
“That is a coincidence.” I twisted my lips to the side, accepting his teasing.
“What are the chances?”
“I couldn’t tell you.” I smiled, though I was still distracted by Dan’s name being changed to Husband in my phone. I honestly didn’t remember doing it.
“Do you eat sandwiches?” he asked, as though the future of the world hung in the balance.
“I have been known to eat sandwiches on occasion, yes.”
“Get out. Because—you’re not going to believe this, but I swear it’s true—I eat sandwiches.”
Despite my attention being split, I smiled. He really was quite gifted at distracting me. “Unbelievable.”
“We have so much in common, Kit-Kat. First lunch, now sandwiches.” It might have been my imagination, but it sounded like his voice deepened when he called me by the nickname, his tone low and familiar. And then he applied that same tone to every subsequent word, including when he added, “We should probably just get married.”
My heart did a little twisty thing. I tried to breathe normally. Tried and failed.
“Kat?”
“Yes, I’m—” I had to clear my throat so I wouldn’t gulp air. “I’m here. Sorry. We just pulled up to my place.”
“Oh? . . . We?”
“Nicolas is driving me home. I was visiting Janie and Quinn. I made them a lemon loaf.” I rolled my lips between my teeth before I volunteered any of the additional information that was on the tip of my tongue, like what kind of lemons I’d used (Meyer) and when I’d bought the lemons (on Wednesday).
“That’s nice. I’m sure Janie appreciated it. Quinn has been such a fucking—excuse my profanity—asshole recently.”
“He’s just worried.”
Nicolas had pulled to a stop in front of my building and glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I covered the receiver with my hand and whispered, “Can I have a minute?”
He nodded. “Sure. Tell Dan I say hi.”
I gave Nicolas a grateful smile.
“There’s worried, and then there’s being-a-giant-pain-in-the-ass-and-making-everyone’s-lives-miserable worried.” Dan sounded grouchy.
“Nicolas says hi by the way.”
“He’s good people.”
We were quiet for a short moment, during which a deluge of apprehensions fought for dominance in my forebrain: How did I not remember reprogramming the name for Dan’s number? Dan’s life was already hectic and demanding enough, and now I was adding to it. Although I would do as Sandra recommended and allow Dan to help—if that’s what he wanted to do—I still wanted to do something nice for him, to make it up to him, to show him how grateful I was.
This last thought had me asking, “Regarding Quinn, is there anything I can do? To help you? To make your life easier?”
He didn’t answer right away, and for a minute I thought the call had been dropped. But then he said, “I have to go, the plane is taking off and you need to get to sleep. Make me a lemon loaf. And have lunch with me on Thursday. That’ll help.”
Oh jeez. My heart didn’t just flip, it pined. A burst of something—a wish, desire, dread—sent zinging sensations outward from my chest to my limbs.
I wanted to respond with a loud, I’ll eat lunch with you every day of my life and make you eleventy hundred lemons loaves!
But I didn’t.
Because even I knew that wouldn’t be normal.
Monday night I made three more lemon loaves: two for Dan, and one for my Tuesday night knitting group meetup. Tuesdays were always my favorite day of the week because of knit nights.
Several years ago, when I was new to the architecture firm and Janie worked in the accounting department, she’d noticed me knitting one day during lunch. She didn’t knit, but she was part of a knitting group. This was mostly because her best friend from college was part of the knitting group and they’d made her an honorary member.
Because Janie was absolutely delightful and unlike anyone else I’d ever met, I took her up on her invitation to join the group one random Tuesday, and the rest was history.