26. Kent

TWENTY-SIX

"You roasted a chicken?"

Corrine's question doubles as an accusation. She knows the comforting effects of my roasted chicken well. Thyme, rosemary, with a pinch of crushed red pepper, soothes the soul with the added benefit of creating leftovers for chicken soup. My bubbe would be proud.

"It's my most impressive meal, and this is the first time I've cooked for?—"

"Your boyfriend."

"I was going to say, Vincent." I stir the mashed potatoes on the stove, they're thick and creamy. "I'm not sure we're calling each other that."

"Why not? You're dating, right?" Corrine asks.

"Yes."

"And neither one of you is seeing anyone else?"

"No."

"Kenny, my friend. You're boyfriends."

"You sound like Gillian."

"Where do you think she gets it from?" A satisfied smile spreads across her face.

She grabs the apron from the hook behind the pantry door, and when she fumbles with the ties behind her back, Sweetums, sensing playtime, jumps into action. He swats and paws at the apron's strings and Corrine's legs.

"Shoo!" she shouts. "Get this creature away from the kitchen while we cook."

"Let me," Ruth says, hanging up her coat by the door and scooping Sweetums up. He instantly melts into her arms. "Bedroom?"

I nod. "But don't shut the door. He'll only protest. He'll snuggle up on the bed on his own. Maybe."

"Got it," Ruth says, cradling Sweetums during his temporary relocation.

Corrine presents her back to me, ties dangling, and I fasten them into a bow.

"So, dating then?" she asks.

"Yes. Dating. Definitely dating."

"And shtupping," Ruth says, returning empty-handed. "There's definitely more than dating happening."

My face blushes with embarrassment, but Ruth only persists.

"Listen, I know a thing or two about this. Amy and I started this way. Insta-lust. Like a new star exploding into existence. The heat could fry the Eastern Seaboard." Ruth smirks and momentarily seems distracted.

"I liked Amy," I say. "She was hilarious. And cute."

"She was a pain in my ass."

"Sounds like she was a good match for you," Corrine says.

"At first. But our star burned out. I prefer to explore … many stars and solar systems." Ruth washes her hands, readying to assist. "That's not going to happen here, though. Wait until you see Vincent. This guy is smoking. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him either." With her hands dry, Ruth snaps the dish towel at my ass.

Corrine's pursed-lips smile hints this is unfamiliar territory for her. Our conversations about her and Charlie are firmly closed-door, and I was hoping to keep it that way about anyone I might date. But Ruth Parrish doesn't understand PG-13.

"This is some next-level shit, Corrine. We're talking?—"

"Anyway," I interrupt, throwing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer at Ruth, "let's get these going and maybe not mortify my ex-wife and new whatever-we're-calling-him, thank you very much."

Ruth opens her mouth to reply, and the buzzer saves me from her retort.

"That'll be him." I peer at Ruth. "Behave."

She smirks mischievously. The sounds of pots, lids, and running water usher me into the hallway, and I head downstairs to let Vincent in.

When I open the door, Vincent's standing, shifting his weight from foot to foot, holding a bouquet in one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He's wearing his long wool coat, and his standard "uniform," but the top two buttons of his dress shirt are open. That spot, an appetizer of his neck and chest, beckons, but when he looks at me, there's something in his eyes I haven't seen before. He's blinking rapidly, and there's a tightness around his beautiful eyes.

"Hey," I say. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't speak but shakes his head quickly. "I almost didn't come."

"Come here." I open my arms. All of his weight sinks into me, and he completely melts. When I gather him up, his torso shakes in my grasp. My teeth bite at my lower lip. Corrine and Ruth are upstairs. Waiting.

"Listen, there's nothing to worry about. Corrine is harmless. Truly. And Ruth, well, she'll behave. I promise."

I pull him back. The color has drained from his face.

"Let's sit," I say, and we settle on the front step. He leans on me, breath heavy. The weight of his body presses so firmly on me he'd knock me over if the door wasn't supporting me.

"This is why I don't get past the first date," he says. "This is what happens when I like someone."

"What happens? Tell me." My arm hasn't moved from Vincent's torso, and I squeeze tightly, attempting to soothe him.

"My OCD. People meet me and that's it. It's not what anyone's looking for."

"Vincent, I'm not anyone." I gently kiss his head. "And Corrine and Ruth love me. They want to love you, too."

A huge sigh escapes Vincent's lips. "But am I loveable?"

My heart balloons. I pull him closer and say, "Oh, my smoothie."

"Excuse me?"

I chuckle. "Smoothie. Vincent, you don't have a single hair on your body. And you're ridiculously sweet. Like a chocolate peanut butter smoothie. But way fewer calories."

He smiles and lowers his head.

"Listen, I like you too," I say, wrapping my other arm around him. "A lot."

"Yeah, but it's me liking you that's the problem. Because now," he says, clasping his hands together, "your ex-wife and your friend will see what a mess I am."

"Vincent Manda. My smoothie. Look at me."

He glances up, and the color has partially returned. His hazel eyes focus on me as I do my best not to get lost in the brown eyelashes sweeping over his brow.

"Look." I nod down at my shirt. "I'm covered in butter. And carrot peels. And"—I poke at something on my shirt—"maybe black pepper. Or paprika. I don't know, but the point is I'm the definition of a mess. And those ladies upstairs?" My lips brush his temple. "They still love me. Loving someone means cherishing every imperfection. Because those are what make you special." I lift his chin, my thumb rubbing along his lower lip. "They're going to love you too. Ruth already has a crush on you." I give his forehead another peck. "Vincent, you're quite loveable."

He brushes his lips on mine. The kiss is short and soft, like two well-loved LEGO pieces melting into each other.

"Okay. Okay. Let's go," he says. "Before I change my mind."

I take his hand, give it a squeeze, and we head up.

"Couldn't wait to get it on—" Ruth's wisecrack greets us as we enter, but she's interrupted by Corrine, who moves toward the door, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"Vincent. I'm so happy to meet you." Corrine tucks her hair behind her ear and offers her hand. Vincent glances at her hand, me, and then takes it.

"Same," he says, handing her the flowers.

"For me? That was thoughtful." Corrine smells the flowers and a sweet smile blossoms on her face. "Daisies are my favorite," she says, and slips the apron over her head.

"Nice move," Ruth says, winking at Vincent.

"Kent has told me so many lovely things about you." Vincent hangs his coat next to Ruth's.

"Don't believe any of it. This one"—she nods at me—"is full of platitudes, but how am I supposed to play the role of evil ex-wife if all he does is fawn over me?"

"Corrine's an honorary lesbian," Ruth says. "Friends with your ex. Even after you've moved on …" Ruth nods. "I wholeheartedly approve."

"Is that really a thing?" Vincent asks.

"I'm still friends with all my exes," Ruth says. "It's how I have so many damn friends."

"Come, sit." Corrine nods toward the stools under my island. "The peas are almost done. Kent made everything else."

"He roasted a chicken for you," Ruth says. "A whole fucking chicken."

"It's the only thing I know how to make," I say with a shrug.

"Because I taught you." Corrine uncovers the peas and steam escapes into the room.

"And you taught me well."

Vincent tucks himself on a stool next to Ruth and grabs a wine glass from the collection on the counter.

"Sir," Ruth says, lifting the bottle and giving Vincent a generous pour. She fills her glass and holds it up. "Cheers. To queers!"

We take turns clinking glasses, and when my glass touches Vincent's, we make eye contact briefly. I do my best to give him a warm, reassuring look.

"And you, Corrine," Ruth adds.

"Hey, I'm an honorary lesbian." She winks at Ruth.

"We welcome everyone," Ruth says, and a small laugh escapes from Vincent's mouth. Corrine joins him, followed by me, and finally Ruth.

The wine flows … we finish two bottles, and Vincent continues to be utterly charming. When the serving fork slips out of my hand, and breast meat falls onto his plate, splattering chicken juice and a smattering of potatoes on his freshly pressed shirt, he doesn't flinch. He takes an extra napkin from Corrine, does his best to wipe himself off, smiles at me, and moves on. He's trying so hard. My heart kvells.

With Ruth's pineapple upside-down cake almost finished, Corrine yawns and gives me her patented I'm-ready-to-leave-now look.

"Well, it's almost this old lady's bedtime," she says.

"Corrine, is this what happens when you near fifty?" Ruth asks.

"Pretty much," she replies, "although I've been an early bedtime girl since Kent began teaching."

"Valid." Ruth stands and folds her napkin. "I'll walk you out. We can leave the men to do … manly things." She raises her eyebrows at me and smiles. I chuckle because her heart really is pure. Ruth just wants everyone to have as much sex as she does, and well, I'm starting to understand her viewpoint.

"Vincent. I can see why Kent likes you so much," Corrine says at the door. "You're wonderful." She gives Vincent a sweet smile and then leans over and gives him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back, his ears have flushed pink. The smile that creeps across my face confirms what I'm realizing. Vincent Manda's blush definitely gets my heart racing.

"Thank you," Vincent replies. "I'm so glad we got to spend a little time together."

"We'll do it again," Corrine replies. "Maybe go out. I'll drag Charlie."

"If you can get him to stop hitting other men with sticks," Ruth says. "Hockey. Officially the least gay sport in existence."

"Any sport with a locker room is gay," Vincent says, and when both Corrine and Ruth laugh, my smile beams.

Finally, alone, Vincent leans against the closed door and sighs.

"You were amazing." I grab his waist and press my torso against his. "I told you she'd love you."

"How can you tell?"

"I know Corrine. If she didn't adore you to bits, she would've been polite, but calling you wonderful? No way."

"I'm exhausted," he says, resting his head on my shoulder and nestling into the crook of my neck. As his warm breath caresses my skin, I realize being close to Vincent Manda is quickly becoming one of my favorite places in the world.

"I have an idea," I say. "To help you wind down."

"What?"

"Come."

I take his hand and tickle his palm with my fingers as I lead him into my bathroom, hoping he'll enjoy my surprise.