10. Conor
Conor
Okay, so I might have asked Aiden what Jess’s favorite food was.
And I might have skipped out on work early today so I could cook her favorite—steak fajitas—for dinner tonight.
But, in my defense, I saw the disgusting instant ramen wrappers in the trash. So, really, I’m just looking out for her health and wellbeing. Plus, Jess is obviously on a tight budget while she’s looking for work, and this seemed like the easiest way to help her without embarrassing her.
And, yeah, there’s also the fact that I’ve barely seen her since Wafflegate last Saturday. Most of my furniture and homewares are currently in storage, but the second I move into my new house and unpack my waffle maker, I’m going to gift it to her. As an act of public service.
Nobody should have to suffer through waffles grilled on a George Foreman ever again.
As Jess and I wander the aisles at the grocery store, I try not to glance at her too often.
But, as I throw a bag of onions in the cart, I sneak a sideways look.
Her face is wrinkled in a frown as she examines the selection of peppers, looking like she’s doing a complex algebra equation.
She’s changed into short denim overalls over a white t-shirt, with matching white Converse.
Her brown curls are tied up in a yellow scrunchie, and she’s wearing thick, black-rimmed glasses that I haven’t seen before.
It’s a good look for her. Like, a super good look.
Is it weird that I feel like I’ve missed her over the past few days?
Probably.
She sees me looking (not as sneaky as I thought) and shrugs. “Which peppers do you like?”
I reach past her and select a random bag. “The red ones?”
“Works for me.” She laughs. “I’m too tired to think properly.”
“I know the feeling.” I offer her a little smile as I set the peppers in the cart. It’s nice, walking around Whole Foods with Jess, pushing a cart we’re both adding groceries to. Groceries that will be put into the same fridge, at the same house. “Rough week?”
She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. “Yup. I think I might be unemployable.”
“I highly doubt that.” I grab a box of kiwis that I saw Jess eyeing wistfully, and add them to the cart. “What did you do in New York?”
“Waitressed.” She frowns. “By necessity, not by choice. And when I came back to Atlanta, the idea was that I wouldn’t have to do that again. But, I guess I might have to.”
“You’ll find something,” I assure her.
“You said you had a long week, too?” Jess diverts the conversation as we make our way out of the produce section and into the bakery, which smells like warm, sugary dough.
“Lots on the go right now.”
“Do you always work so many hours?”
Yes. But how do I say that without sounding like a complete workaholic?
Which I’m not. Not really.
“Sometimes,” I settle on saying. I watch Jess as she studies the bread and selects the cheapest loaf. I add another loaf of quinoa and flax bread. You know, for her health. Because Aiden would be happy to know that she’s eating properly. “I’m definitely going to take this weekend off.”
I mean, I might take Sunday off. We’ll see.
“Any plans?” Jess smiles nonchalantly, but her eyes are focused on mine.
I grab a package of tortilla wraps. “I was going to head to Mia and Pete’s for a barbecue tomorrow evening.”
Jess’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Do you know them well?”
“I’d hope so.” I laugh. “Mia’s my sister.”
“What?” She blinks, then pulls on a curl in her ponytail. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, she knows Aiden through Pete. When Aiden wanted his house renovated, she recommended me. I usually buy and sell the houses I flip, but it was really nice to work with a client, make their vision come to life. Aiden and I became buddies, and the rest is history.” I explain as we walk.
Then, I go for it. “Want to come with me tomorrow?”
She stops for a moment, her forehead creased. I watch her face carefully, my heart beating quicker than usual. I have no idea why I feel so nervous. I’ve never been nervous to ask a girl out. Not that I’m asking Jess out.
I’m just hoping she says yes. As any friend would.
“Mia said I should invite you,” I add. See? Not even my idea. Just extending my sister’s hospitality.
Jess’s face relaxes a touch and she nods. “Oh, okay. That would be great. I’d love to see them.”
Excitement flares within me, which is a bit ridiculous given that Jess only agreed to come when I extended Mia’s invite. But still… It means more time together. Of which I am quickly becoming a bigger fan.
“Great. She’ll be delighted.” I hold out two jars. “Mild or medium salsa?”
Jess grins, putting two rows of square, white teeth on display. “Spicy.”
She would say that, wouldn’t she? I add two jars to the cart, because I’m not about to go and tell her that the mere thought of anything spicier than a jalapeno is too hot for me to handle.
I have a reputation to uphold, after all.
* * *
“Can you grab the buns for me?” Pete asks, casually flipping burgers with one hand while clutching his craft ale with the other.
I take a sip of my own beer and let the tart, crisp flavor sour my tongue before swallowing.
It’s a beautiful evening. The sun hangs low above the horizon, still angry hot despite the impending nightfall, and the heavy aroma of sizzling meat and freshly cut grass is almost intoxicating. I love summer.
“Sure thing.” I set down my beer and walk towards the open patio doors and into the kitchen, where Jess and Mia are chopping up veggies for salad.
Mia and Pete’s little boy, Oliver, sits in a high chair next to them. He and Jess are babbling and cooing sweet nothings back and forth, already completely in love with each other.
At two years old, Ollie already has better game than I do. Respect, little man.
I watch Jess as she passes Oliver a slice of cucumber. How she laughs when his eyes light up and he seizes it with one eager fist.
Jess’s shower-damp hair hangs long and loose, and her face is free of makeup.
She’s wearing the same baby blue, floral sundress she wore for dinner the night I met her.
Only tonight, she’s ditched the matching sweater, leaving her arms and delicate collarbones on show (did I mention I love summer?) After a week in the Atlanta sunshine, she has a new dusting of freckles that dance over the bridge of her nose.
I have the completely uncalled for, but almost insatiable urge to kiss them. All of them.
She’s been smiling since we stepped into Pete and Mia’s yard a couple of hours ago—a complete 180 from the frazzled, downtrodden woman who arrived home from job hunting yesterday.
I guess it's been a long time since she’s been here.
Seeing familiar faces is probably just what she needed to cheer up after a week of fruitlessly looking for work.
It’s hard to believe she hasn’t been home to see her friends and brother in two years, and once again I can’t help but wonder what happened with that ex of hers.
Why, exactly, did they break up? What really made her return home?
Whatever it was, I can’t help but be glad that Jess is back in Atlanta.
Last night, we ate steak fajitas in front of the TV, while watching the Falcons first preseason game.
It was the most comfortable, unstressed and relaxed I’ve felt in ages.
But, it also made me realize I have to be careful not to spend too much time getting too cozy with Jess.
I can’t go falling for her, because that would be dumb. Really dumb.
“Hey, Conor.” Mia notices me hovering in the doorway and smiles, her hazel eyes warm.
“Hey!” I run a hand through my hair, embarrassed that I’ve been caught staring. “I’m just grabbing buns. Steaks are done and burgers will be ready in a minute.”
“Perfect,” she says and passes me a package of kaiser rolls.
“Come on then, buddy,” Jess coos to Oliver. “Let’s get you outside.”
I watch her lift Oliver out of his high chair and place him on her hip. He giggles as she tickles his pudgy little tummy.
“Ready for your dinner?” Mia drops a kiss on her son’s head as she glides by with a tray of caprese salad. “Uncle Conor made you a burger.”
Although I’d never admit it aloud, it’s still kind of cool to be called “Uncle.” It’s like I’m a member of some exclusive little club of doting adults. And I love Oliver, I really do. I guess I just like kids in general. They’re so pleasingly uncomplicated.
“I don’t know if Oliver is going to leave Jess alone long enough to try the burger I made him,” I tease, smirking at Jess. “I should be jealous—I spend two years wooing that kid and then you turn up and steal my thunder in one afternoon.”
Jess sparkles at me, grinning. “Oliver is smart enough to choose his favorite people. I think he might be gifted.’”
“Well, the gifted child just puked on your shoulder.”
“EW!” Her face contorts with disgust as she swivels her head to survey the non-existent vomit. When she realizes I’m kidding, she swats me. I clutch my chest dramatically, pretending her little swat hurt.
Oliver laughs.
“He likes it!” Jess swats me again, and I stagger backwards, earning another laugh from Oliver.
I yelp in fake pain, and the kid just laughs harder. Little bubbly, gurgly, joyful laughs.
Jess joins in.
And then, so do I.
I’m still laughing when we all sit down at the patio table together a few minutes later.
“To friends who feel like family!” Pete toasts, nodding in Jess’s direction, and we all clink our glasses together as we repeat the sentiment. I notice Jess’s voice is barely a whisper as she holds up her wine glass.
“Thank goodness it’s almost dark out,” Mia chuckles as she cuts Oliver’s food into tiny, bite-sized morsels. “We can pretend we’re eating somewhere nice.”
“I like it here,” I say without thinking, and Pete and Mia look at me with matching smiles.