“Um…”
She stepped aside as he let himself in. The home was dark and sounded empty. He’d never been in her house before. “Italian Mary sent this over. It’s still warm in case you haven’t eaten.”
She accepted the tray and blinked up at him. “What is it?”
“Manicotti.” He took off his coat and folded it over his arm, waiting for her to officially invite him inside or offer to hang it up. “Did you eat?”
“What?”
“Dinner. Have you eaten anything today?”
Her head shook. “I had some cookies.”
He spotted her coat hanging from a hook and draped his on top. “You need more than cookies. Show me the kitchen.”
Assuming it had to be one of the doorways on the other side of the den, he started walking. Erin followed and watched him with a confused look on her face.
He peeled back the foil and breathed in the scent of his Nona’s sauce. “You’ve never tasted manicotti like this.” He opened a cabinet, finding canned goods, then tried another and kept searching until he found the plates. “Take a seat.”
Grabbing a spatula from the canister on the counter, he dished out two servings and joined her at the table. She stared at the plate. A large basket of baked goods hogged the surface and he grabbed the handle to move it out of the way.
“Leave it.” She caught the base with two hands and he paused.
“I was just gonna move it to the counter so I could look at you.”
She reluctantly let go and watched him like a hawk as he carefully moved it. It was surprisingly heavy.
Mental note, she really liked baked goods.
A pen and notepad sat on the table beside a handmade card. “The Buchanans,” he read. “That was nice of them. Did Skylar bake all that?” His little cousin took after his Aunt Maureen in the kitchen.
“She stopped by a little bit ago.”
He slid her a fork. “Who else came by?”
She stared at him. “Finn.”
He paused from slicing through the manicotti, wondering if he was out of line for thinking… He was, and therefore shoved the thought away. Finn was ridiculously in love with Mallory. He probably just checked on Erin because that was the sort of guy he was.
“Eat.”
She poked at the crepe-like pasta shell as if not trusting it. “What’s in it?”
“Ricotta cheese. Haven’t you ever had manicotti before?”
She shook her head.
“Oh, you’re gonna love it.” He watched her, the anticipation of her smile already making him grin.
She sliced off a bite and brought it to her mouth. Her pretty lips closed around the fork and she chewed slowly, her eyes moving as she analyzed the flavor.
“Wow.”
“Delicious, right?”
She cut off another—bigger—bite and he smiled, pleased she liked it.
He wasn’t sure about stopping by unannounced, especially after the way she talked to him at the cemetery, but the more he thought about it, the more he believed she didn’t want to make too much out of their little get together the other night.
The moment he left the motel to get his car, he regretted the way they ended things. But when he got back, she was already gone. He thought of going to her house, but then he learned the news about her dad passing and he didn’t want to intrude.
“The funeral was nice,” he said, and she stilled.
Maybe that was a dumb thing to say. Christ, she just buried her only parent. There was nothing nice about that.
“Sorry. I never know what to say in situations like this.”
Setting down her fork with a gentle click, her fingers noticeably trembled. “It was nice. I’m glad we had it.”
“Harrison looks like he’s doing well for himself.”
Her expression hardened. “We had a fight. He left.”
“Oh. You okay?”
She nodded. “Family stuff.”
“I can’t imagine how overwhelming this must be for you.”
Her eyes lifted, a look of awe taking over her face. “That’s exactly what it is. I’ve been sitting here for days trying to figure out how I feel and I couldn’t think of the right word. I’m overwhelmed.”
“Well, that’s normal.” He captured her hand and squeezed it gently.
Frowning at his touch, she looked back at him. “Why are you here?”
He didn’t let go. “I was thinking about you.”
“What were you thinking?”
He’d been wondering if she was as okay as she claimed. He worried she might be sad or crying, alone in this house with no one to take her mind off things. He’d been thinking how shitty he felt about the way things ended. “That I missed you.”
She pulled her hand out of his and tucked it on her lap, drawing some conclusion at his statement.
Carrying her plate to the sink, she covered the leftovers with foil. She looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t have a clue what she expected of him.
“Do you want to come to my room?”
He frowned, confused. “Sure?”
Leaving his plate next to hers, she led him down a narrow hall. Her bedroom was at the end. Simple furniture with very little clutter. A house plant hung in the corner with green leaves in a long vine that wound across the curtain rod and reached the mirror above her dresser.