He puts our dinner in the oven to warm back up and he moves around collecting plates, napkins and cutlery, whistling to himself as he goes. He seems comfortable here, relaxed and at home, like the kitchen is his comfort zone.
“Do you like cooking?” I ask as he sets the cutlery and the napkins on the table.
“I wouldn’t call reheating our food cooking Opal.” He chuckles.
“I know. I just meant because of the fancy pants kitchen.”
He heads back into the kitchen and goes to the fridge laughing. “I’ve never heard it called that before. But in answer to your question, yes I do like cooking.”
“We make a good pair then.” I beam.
He glances at over his shoulder as he pulls a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “You like to cook too?”
“Oh, heck no, but they say opposites attract right? Seriously Brett, I can burn a pot of pasta.”
“I guess I’ll be the one doing all of the cooking then. You can do the dishes.” The grin he wears fades from his face, as it dawns on him what he’s just said.
It only serves to remind me that it can’t happen between us. There’s no future for us. He turns his back, clearing his throat loudly as I look down into my lap.
The moment of awkwardness fades away as Brett reaches up to a high cupboard and grabs two glasses. His back is still to me as he opens the wine and begins to pour it out. “So what do you do for food? You must eat out a lot,” he says.
“I eat more takeout than I care to admit. But I can rustle up a mean salad?” I laugh.
Brett comes back to the table with the two glasses of wine. He places one beside me and I thank him. He sits down in the chair next to mine and raises his glass and I clink mine against it.
“Here’s to the humble salad.” He grins.
“Hey there’s nothing humble about my salads!” I giggle after I take a drink of my wine. “Those little things are really quite up themselves.”
“You know they really are little show offs aren’t they? Look at me with my healthy vegetable goodness and my bright colors,” Brett teases.
I laugh again and shake my head. “Exactly. Luckily, Rita fares slightly better than me in the kitchen, so now and again, we have a decent roast or something.”
“Who’s Rita?” Brett asks me. The oven timer pings and he gets up and goes back to the kitchen.
“My roommate,” I reply. “And my best friend. We met in college and we were instantly inseparable. Of course, we grew up and life gets in the way a bit, but we’re still close.”
“It must be fun to have a roommate,” Brett says as he puts the food out.
“It is.” I nod. “I’m never bored or lonely. But sometimes, I think it would be nice to branch out alone, to be a real adult like you and live alone.”
“Being an adult is overrated.” Brett shrugs. “I do like having my privacy though. I mean tonight would have gone very differently if I had a roommate waiting here for me, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess it would. We might have had to share the food,” I joke.
Brett comes to the table with our plates. He sets mine down in front of me.
My stomach jumps a little as the smell of the spicy tomato sauce drifts up to my nostrils. I pick up my fork and spear a piece of pasta coated in the sauce. “Oh, it’s amazing.” I moan.
Brett nods his agreement. “Yeah. It’s one of my favorite places for nights where I’ve worked late and can’t be bothered to come home and cook. Night which, by the way, I will now be referring to as Opal Nights.”
“Hey!” I laugh. “That’s not fair. It’s not like I can knock up a feast now and again, and call it a Brett night.” I pause and look at him, noticing again how much younger he looks when he’s relaxed like this. “You know something? I think maybe this is all a ruse. You have this big fancy kitchen just so you can tell girls you can cook, but I suspect it’s all a lie. That really, you don’t even know how to work half of this stuff. Yeah. I bet you can’t even boil an egg,” I tease him.
“Well, maybe I’ll have to cook you dinner one night and show you that’s so not true.” He grins at me. “But you’re right about me using the cooking thing to impress girls. Is it working?”
“Oh, hell yeah!” I snicker, keeping it casual, but I can’t help but feel a spark of jealousy at the thought of another girl sitting here where I am, eating Brett’s home cooked food and laughing at his jokes. “You must have an army of girls coming up here. Good looking, successful, and a good cook.”
“You would think, wouldn’t you?” He cocks his head at me.
“Oh, come on, Brett. You can’t expect me to believe you don’t have a past.”
“Oh, I have a past. I’m not like a virgin or anything.” He chuckles again. “I just don’t have an army of girls as you so nicely worded it. There have been a few girls here and there, but with work and everything, I rarely have the time to just kick back and have fun.” He takes a forkful of pasta and chews slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s funny…After the expansion of the business, I’m finally in a place where I can take a step back and enjoy some time off work. And then this whole thing with my father happened and I’m working more hours than ever.”
“Have you given any more thought to your father’s proposal?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. And I don’t intend to. At least not tonight. Tonight, I just want to forget work. In fact, I want to forget that there’s a world
