We walk into the house, and my mouth waters at the aroma filling the room. “It smells so good,” I say and almost bite my tongue.
"It should smell good." He walks into the kitchen and grabs two pot holders, opening the oven. “My grandmother made this fresh today,” he says, taking the potpie out of the oven, and I can see the golden crust. “I picked it up when I got your pills,” he says, and my eyes are on the pie the whole time.
He walks over to the cabinet and takes two plates out. Walking back over, he cuts two pieces and puts them on the plates. “Shit,” he says, looking at me. “I forgot to make a salad."
I shake my head at his nervousness. “We don’t need a salad,” I say. “The pie will be enough."
He nods his head and walks over to the island, where he sets the two plates. I don’t move from my spot, afraid to get in the way. “Come and sit,” he says, and only then do I move to walk next to him. He pulls out a stool, and I just look at him, walking to the one beside him as he laughs. “I was holding out the chair for you,” he says, and I look at him shocked.
"I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I say. “Why would you do that?" I ask him, confused.
"It’s a gentlemanly thing to do,” he says, grabbing his fork and scooping a piece of the pie. I look down at the plate in front of me and not only is the pie golden but it’s flaky also. My fork slides right into it, and I blow on it a couple of times before I place it in my mouth.
The buttery goodness just melts onto my tongue, and I try not to groan. "Is it good?" he asks, and I just nod. "She’ll be happy to know."
I eat until my eyeballs are full, but when I look down, I see I’ve only eaten half of what he’s given to me. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten this much food,” I say, looking at him. He gets up to get another piece, and he smiles.
“That was my plate,” he says, and I look down at the half-eaten plate.
“I’m going to finish it,” I say, and he laughs. “I didn’t know,” I say, my heart hammering in my chest as I look down and my hand shakes.
"Hey," he says and then calls me by my name. “Willow." I look up at him, and I have to blink away the tears.
"I don’t mean to waste the food," I start to say. “I’m really sorry, and I know this is your house."
"It’s my fault,” he says. “I should have switched the plates." He comes back without his plate and grabs the plate in front of me. “I’ll just finish eating this." He grabs my plate and fork and finishes what is on my plate. “See, no waste."
"Thank you," I tell him and yawn. “I’m going to head to bed."
“Okay,” he says. “If you need anything, yell.” I think about telling him that I would like him to come with me to my room. That I wake up at night and look for him. That I miss his hand holding mine. I want to tell him all this, but instead, I just look at him.
“Good night, Quinn.” I turn and walk away from him toward the bedroom. I climb into bed, telling myself I’ll leave in the middle of the night. I lie down, looking at the light in the hallway as my eyes start to get heavier. I’m going to sleep a bit to gain my energy and then leave. It’s what I need to do for both of us. In the darkness of the night, I’ll slip out, and I’ll be just a memory.
Chapter 21
Quinn
I watch her walk back to her bedroom with her head hanging down. The look on her face when she was telling me about wasting food was more than I could take. I wanted to take the whole pie and throw it in the trash to make her see that I didn’t care. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could prepare me for that look. I put the pie away and sit on the couch, the whole time listening to see if she calls for me.
When Amelia gets home after midnight, she just waves and goes to her bedroom. I get up, turning off the light, and I walk to Willow’s room. I poke my head in there and find her sleeping on her side in a fetal position, and she is still wearing the clothes that she came home in.
I walk into the room as quietly as I can so as not to wake her and grab the blanket, placing it on her. I did the same thing this afternoon, afraid she would get cold.