77. Thursday
I’m working late. Again.
But at least there’s a very handsome man in my home planning dinner for when I arrive.
“Pasta or pizza?”
“I thought you were making dinner? I don’t want pizza delivery again.”
“I am. I was going to grill flatbread pizzas. I have a Thai basil recipe I was going to try.”
“Thai basil pizza?”
“Uh huh.”
I could hear him rattling around in the kitchen. I love that sound.
“Pizza. You have me intrigued.”
“Perfect. Cause I already bought the flatbreads.”
I never knew what it meant when people said you could hear someone grinning over the phone. I get it now.
“This cilantro,” he paused. “You should smell it. What time are you getting home?”
“Um,” I looked at the pile on my desk. “Give me another hour. I promise I’ll work quickly. If I still need some extra time, I’ll come in early in the morning.”
“Okay. I’m holding you to the hour then.”
I heard how he said it, with a question in his voice. He already knew me too well.
“No, really. This is the new me. I will be there when I said. I’ll set the timer as soon as we hang up, so it’ll buzz me when to leave.”
“I’ll be eating this pizza alone if you aren’t here. Trust me; you’re going to want to try it.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I may have dessert for you too …” I love that voice. The one that tells me exactly what he has planned.
“Now you’re just being cruel.”
He laughed.
“I promise. One hour. See you soon.”
— —
This is part of my experiment to write a romance novel by writing one chapter a day for 365 days. Read more about it here.
