At that, Daniela rolled her eyes. “I get that you don’t want me to have a boyfriend,” she said, “but I’m not at all sure that’s the role he would take.”
“I didn’t say that,” her sister protested. “It’s just not been all that long.”
“It was well over a year with a cheating, lying husband at the end, who I nursed out of duty rather than love,” she said. “Exactly how long do I have to wait before I’m happy?”
Silence. “I’m sorry,” Davida said in little more than a whisper. “You’re right, and, if you do decide to go out tonight, let me know. I would be more than happy to come over.” And she hung up.
But, after seeing the look in Weston’s eyes and the blood on his clothes, Daniela didn’t think that going out tonight was the best idea. And considering Angel was still a problem made it a worse idea.
Instead, since Weston hadn’t brought anything home, and Shambhala had already found Sari in the playroom, Daniela searched in her fridge, looking for something to make for dinner. They’d had restaurant food for lunch, so they probably didn’t need anything terribly heavy. She stared at the contents of her freezer, looking for inspiration, when Weston walked into the kitchen, tucking a clean shirt into his jeans.
“Sorry I didn’t bring anything. I’d be happy to order in or go pick something up.”
“How do you feel about pasta?” she asked, pulling out a pack of sausages.
“Sausages and pasta?”
She laughed. “You don’t have to say it like that. It’s really good. Trust me.”
“If you’re up for cooking,” he said, “I’m up for eating. But it’s not how I envisioned the evening to be.”
She waved that off. “Let’s do that another day,” she said with a smile. She stopped and studied him carefully. “How are you doing?”
He didn’t make any pretense of trying to ignore her, but he nodded and said, “I’ll be fine. It always takes a little bit to detach from something like that.”
She nodded and popped the sausages into the microwave to defrost, so she could slice them. Then she said, “I don’t know if you’re a hugger or not, but if you could use a hug—”
Instantly he opened his arms. She looked at him in surprise, then stepped into the embrace. But it seemed like he was offering her as much comfort as she was giving him. When he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her in closer, she melted against him. It was just so nice to be held by somebody who cared.
When he finally released her, he said, “Thank you.”
She looked up at him, startled, having forgotten the reason she had offered him the hug in the first place. Then she smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said, as she kissed him gently on the cheek. Then she went back to bustling in the kitchen.
He sat down at the island. “Can I help?”
She thought about it a moment, then nodded and gave him several tomatoes, a cutting board and a knife. “Dice them up small please, like bite-size.”
He went straight to work, and then she gave him some pickled artichoke hearts. His eyebrows popped up, but he kept slicing.
Then she gave him a can of large black olives and said, “These are big, so maybe give them a chop too.” In the meantime, she had a pot of water boiling for pasta, and the sausage slices were simmering in a skillet nearby.
He looked at it all with interest. “I’ve never had something like this. It looks interesting.”
She shrugged. “It’s one of my favorites.” She walked to the fridge, pulled out feta cheese and gave him the big square and said, “Cut off about a one-inch slab and cut it into small cubes.”
He did as she instructed, while she pulled out some dishes.
She efficiently drained the corkscrew pasta, then put them into a bowl with butter, added salt and pepper and squeezed lemon juice on top. He stared at her in surprise, and she just chuckled and reassured him once more. Moving the bowl closer to the stove, she tossed in the cooked sausage pieces, including the fat left in the pan. Next she tossed in all of the vegetables he’d chopped, put the cheese on top and when it was all mixed up, she served dishes for the three of them.
“If you want to grab Sari,” she said, “we can eat on the patio. I’ve got all three bowls.”
Together they headed to the outside table. Weston snagged the high chair on the way out with his spare hand, and setting it at the table, gently plopped Sari in her chair.
She looked at the pasta and laughed with both hands outstretched. Her bowl was plastic, and, with an inquiring eye at Daniela for approval, Weston gave Sari the whole bowl. She went for the noodles and started chewing away.
“She does love to eat, doesn’t she?” Taking a bite from his own bowl, he stopped in surprise as the flavors melded in his mouth. “Wow.”
“Like I said, it’s a favorite of mine,” Daniela said. “It’s supereasy and fast, but good.”
“You’re not kidding,” he said. “I could eat this anytime.” As it was, he inhaled his bowl, then went back inside and brought the big bowl back out with him and had seconds.
Minutes later, as he pushed away his empty bowl, he said, “You know something? As much as I would have liked to have taken you out for dinner, this was delicious.”
She smiled at him, pleased with the compliment. “Good,” she said. “Sometimes a home-cooked meal hits the spot.”
“And sometimes going out is fun and a much-deserved break from cooking,” he said.
She nodded. “So, do you want to tell me what happened today?”
“Hard to even know where to start,” he said, “but I must because some of it involves
