Chapter Seventeen
Oliver
When I arrive at Ally’s door with a new bundle of peonies in hand, the aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread seeps out from under the door. My mouth waters as I rap on the wood. There is a pattering of socked feet before the door opens. Ally is standing in an oversized college sweatshirt over black leggings and slouchy socks on her feet. Her hair is in a high ponytail and there’s a twinkle in her eyes. She looks adorable.
“You look terrific,” I tell her.
She eyes me then the flowers I’m holding.
“I can’t cook in nice clothes. I have to be comfortable. Are those for me?”
“Nope.” Her face falls for half a second before I start to laugh. “Of course they are. I figured the other ones were getting old by now.”
“They’re beautiful. Come on in. Dinner is almost ready. I made a roast and popped some rolls in the oven. My mom told me it would be the easiest thing to make and I just threw everything in a pot.”
“It smells delicious.”
“Could you swap out the flowers in the vase in my bedroom while I get the table ready?”
“Sure thing.”
I find the vase on the side table by her bed and notice a stack of books next to it. My latest release is sitting on top, so I quickly grab the pen next to the stack and sign it for her. Then I take the vase back into the kitchen to change out the bouquet and put the new one back in her room.
When I walk back into the kitchen she says, “Thank you. I love seeing them when I wake up in the morning.”
“I’m glad they bring you joy.”
“They certainly do.” She wipes the counter and turns to me. “Everything is ready.”
“Great. Let me wash my hands first. The bathroom is on the left, right?”
“Second door. Uh, Olly?” I turn back to look at her.
“Yes?”
“You are just going to wash your hands, right?” she asks nervously.
We both share a look and then burst out laughing.
“I will come back fully clothed until you tell me otherwise.” I hold up my hand in Scout’s honor formation.
“What can I get you to drink while you’re in there?”
“Wine. Water. Whatever,” I respond.
“Whatever coming right up,” she sasses.
When I get back to the table, the meat is sliced on a platter with potatoes and carrots encircling the edges. Warm rolls are in a basket covered with a cloth napkin, and there is red wine and a glass of water next to each plate.
“This looks wonderful. I appreciate you cooking for me.”
“Of course. Just don’t get used to it.” She gives me a raised brow before she places food on my plate. “I can cook spaghetti, but we just had it, so I had to come up with another plan.”
“I don’t cook much either. Thank goodness for Joe’s and the market.”
“Same here. It’s no fun to cook for just one person.” She takes a big sip of wine and sets down her glass.
“So…” she starts.
“Yes?” I raise my brow.
“In a rom-com, this would probably be the time they’d unload their past baggage. Do you want to tell me about your last serious relationship and why it didn’t work out?”
“Wow. You get right to the point. Why not?” I set my fork down and wipe my mouth. “My ex is actually my ex-fiancée. She was beautiful on the outside but not always on the inside. She had her, what I call, monster moments, but I felt like I could balance her out because she always said I made her be a better person.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
“I had proposed. She said yes. But about a week before the wedding she called it off. Her parents were furious, but she said she could never live up to my expectations and she knew she couldn’t commit to me for the rest of her life.”
“Wow.” She makes an “o” with her lips as she says it.
“What were your expectations? Should I be concerned?” She squints and I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not.
“To love me and be a nice person?” I shrug.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you need to curb those expectations at the door, mister.” I see the laughter starting in her eyes and laugh with her. “That doesn’t sound like a bad deal,” she says after we compose ourselves.
“We all have our baggage that the right person will overlook and love us in spite of. I thought I gave her that, but she couldn’t give it back to me.” Ally rubs my arm.
“I’m sure that sucked in the moment but look where you are now. I think you made out for the better.” She leans back and points to herself.
“I couldn’t agree more. This roast is delicious,” I say, forking another piece into my mouth.
“Have as much as you want. You know you’ll be taking the leftovers home.”
“But if I have leftovers, I won’t have to go to the market, and I might miss a chance to see you.”
“Then you’ll just have to come here again instead.”
“Anytime you want me, I’ll be here.”
“I’m going to hold you to it,” she quips.
“I believe it’s your turn to tell me about your ex now.”
“Just because you shared doesn’t mean I have to.”
“True. But I’d love to know what I should avoid doing in the future.” I take out my imaginary pen and notepad and give her my full attention.
“Just let me be me. With Roger, I always had to be perfect. I had to do things on his schedule. If he was late, I had to be ready and waiting. If I was late, he’d be furious, saying I didn’t value his time.
“And those dinner parties for his work people were the worst. I had to be dressed just so. He’d always pick out the outfit and leave it for me to put on before he went to work. I was basically his arm candy, and no one really talked to me or asked me much. Even the other wives and girlfriends kept quiet. It was a Stepford wives type of vibe when we were there. I’d ask him about it, and he’d brush it off.
“One time I spoke up and asked one of the gentlemen a question, and you would have thought I’d slapped him in the face instead. Roger quickly excused us and whisked me out of there so fast, I barely stayed on my feet. That’s when I knew there was something seriously wrong with him, his job, and his expectations, so I broke it off with him.
“He didn’t even argue. Said he agreed that I wasn’t up to his standards and if I hadn’t said something first, he would have.
“That was it and I’m thankful every day that it wasn’t something worse or physical.”
“Now it’s my turn to say it…wow.” I emphasize the word because I can’t believe there are guys still out there like that.
“Yep. Now you can see why I keep my guard up. It’s hard to be trusting. He was perfect on paper. Handsome. Successful. Had his own car. His own apartment. Showed interest in what I said…at first. I guess at the time we met he was trying to gauge if I fit his narrative.”
“I hope I can show you I’m not like that. I’m enjoying our time together.” It’s my turn to rub her arm.
“Me too. And you already are.” She squeezes my arm in reassurance.
I look at her hand and then up into her eyes. She smiles, and that’s when I feel it. That’s when I know she’s let me in. And I know I never want to make her frown. My eyes linger, and I lean in to give her a kiss. A soft kiss. A kiss that lets her know I’ll never hurt her. When we break away, I look down at the table.
“Let me help you clean this up and we can get the movie started.”
“We can just throw everything in the dishwasher and get our snuggle on,” she says, wiggling her hips.
“Love it.”
Once we’re all set on the couch she snuggles into my shoulder, and I couldn’t care less what’s on the screen.