a movie, then had a frozen pizza for lunch. I washed it down with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, then watched another movie.
It was around midafternoon when I got up the gumption to remind myself that today wasn’t actually a holiday and there was no rest for the weary. I hauled myself over to the gym—also located on the fourth floor of the Jameson building—and got in a pretty intense leg workout.
In fact, they’re a little wobbly as I walk back to my apartment, but I’m proud of myself and the effort I’m putting into getting my health back on track. I’m determined to bounce back as quickly as possible so there is nothing holding me back for a return to full duty.
I reach into the pocket of my shorts and pull out the key, sliding it into the lock. Just as I start to turn it, I jolt when I hear a feminine voice behind me.
“Hey, Malik.”
My skin tingles as I recognize Anna’s voice. Slowly, I turn my head to see her coming off the elevator. She has her daughter strapped to her chest in some type of hammock-looking scarfy-thing, an arm under to support the baby’s weight, and a large paper bag with handles in the other hand.
I move from my door to her, taking the bag to lighten her load. “Hey.”
My gaze falls to the top of the baby’s head. Her eyes are closed, one tiny first curled up near her mouth. When I glance back at Anna, she smiles. “This kid can sleep anywhere.”
I nod, grinning back.
There’s a tiny moment of awkward silence, but then she gestures at the bag I’d taken from her. “I decided to bring you Thanksgiving dinner.”
My eyes widen as my stomach grumbles with interest. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Oh, trust me… I did,” she says with a laugh. “We had so many leftovers that we just couldn’t fit them all in the refrigerator.”
I heft the bag up and down a few times, noting how heavy it is and feeling bad Anna hauled it all the way up here while carrying a baby. “Did you put an entire turkey in here?”
That tinkling laugh filters through the air, and it amazes me how much I like the sound of it. “Let’s see… I put some turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, three types of stuffing—plain, herbed, and oyster—corn, mac and cheese, green bean casserole, rolls, cabbage rolls, pierogis, and three types of pie—apple, pumpkin, and pecan.”
“Christ,” I mutter as I turn back for my door. “I just gained ten pounds listening to that. Thanks!”
I glance back, find Anna just standing there, and motion with my head. “Well… come on in. You can watch me eat myself silly if you want.”
She doesn’t hesitate, shooting me a dazzling grin as she hurries my way. “Actually… we ate around one today, so I’m hungry again. I’ll join you if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I say as I lead her into my small apartment. I wait for her to cross the threshold, then shut the door.
“Looks just like Cage’s apartment,” she observes, cradling Avery against her chest.
I step into the kitchen. Placing the large bag on the counter, I reach inside to start unloading it. There are plastic containers and Ziploc bags stuffed full of more food than I could possibly eat in a week.
“Let me help you,” Anna says before scanning the room. “Mind if I put Avery on your bed?”
My mind races, wondering how messy my room is. I never make my bed and I’m prone to throw my clothes on the floor until laundry day, but I relax when I realize I actually did laundry today.
“Sure,” I reply.
Anna moves to my room, which is off the living area, and pokes her head in. “She’s not quite to the rolling-over stage yet, but you have plenty of pillows I can place around her,” she observes.
“More on the couch if you need them,” I say, gesturing to them. “They sort of came with the furnishings.”
Anna laughs. “I know. Cage has the same ones.”
I unload the food while Anna settles Avery onto my bed, and I wonder exactly how close Anna and Cage are. They seem to be only in the friend zone, but it makes me wonder if that’s only because Anna’s a recent widow? Maybe Cage wants more… and he’s just biding his time until she’s ready.
But that doesn’t make sense, not when he seems to be so into that woman—Jaime—we’d met last night.
Or