Love At First Fight: My Next Door Neighbour
e's
What was I thinking, threatening him with an exposé? More importantly, why
n my pocket, a reminder that I
tchell," I muttered,
test mystery novel, and I'd nearly dropped it three times while
open. Bring your appet
my stomach growl traitorously. Before I could overthink it, I grabbed m
inimalist and monochrome, his exploded with color and life. C
walls were covered in what looked like children's artw
ng me jump. He was wearing a black apron over a f
a smudge of something red - tomato sauce? - on his fore
ofessional detachment but probably landing
at his kitchen island. "
just as my stomach betraye
twitched. "Sure you're
back in a neat bundle strode in, designer glasses glinting. "Zane, we nee
ghbor?"
," Zane
Zane's increasingly panicked head-shaking. "Though he failed to menti
d. "I haven't
ery politely," Zane agreed, s
ame but somehow knew. He'd taken the sofrito and turned it into what look
or with a grin that reminded me of Ruby's matchma
tarted, but he
r. "Sorry about him. Marcus has known me si
on slipped out befo
ctric crackled in the air between us, making it hard
ng the plate closer.
," I whispered, unable to help myself. It tasted like Sunday dinners and
like he understood exactly w
ly comfortable silence while I ate, Zane occasionally
testing recipes for Marcus's restaurant, and Tommy - you've met Tommy - he was sleeping in
lfway to my mouth
t Maria, who hadn't eaten in three days. And she
pointed out, but my
been failed by the 'legal' systems that were supposed to help them. So yes, I run an unauthorized supper club out of my apartment. Yes,
all this?" I asked, even
e your sense of safety, of home." He stepped closer, close enough that I could see flecks of g
ine instantly, steady and warm. "Just Tommy probably droppin
g was... I b
t ready to name. I stared at our joined hands, noticing how his larger on
tarted to pull away, but h
oftly. "Please. I
ointed out, but I didn't move. My hear
rinkle at the corners. "Consider it a bonus for saving me fro
in my mailbox. Yesterday it was the b
mething in the oven. "That sounds like Ruby. She ha
d, not sure how to ask
no. She's like the annoying little sister I never wanted. Bes
at his answer wa
the subject as I watched him pull what
ng rack. "My grandmother's recipe. She used to make it whenever
rds came out small
ht through all my carefully constructed walls. "Sometimes. Sometime
what you're doing here? Giv
has power, you know? It's memory and comfort and connection all wrapped up in one.
takeout containers piling up in my trash since moving in,
udding was still warm, sprinkled with cinnamon a
and sweet but not too sweet, with hints of spice and c
I struggled t
ggested, his
my moment," I muttered,
e – and the sound did something to my insi
u're much less intimidating when you're h
m threateningly. "I can
tle. "Because you understand now,
of community, of healing, of finding family in unexpected places. It was ever
tanding abruptly. "It's
pause. "Come to dinner tomorrow night. Not the supp
maintained my safe distance. Instea
hopeful. "I promise t
regretting it. "But this is
d me, but his eyes said
wall, I could hear him humming as he cleaned up – some o
getting m
e cursor blinking accusingly. But instead of my
melled like memories
op closed. I was i