The Fling

26

I let the subject of our age difference drop, but I hoped that after tonight she'd want to keep things going, and perhaps I'd be able to convince her that it was a non-issue. I nuzzled the exposed skin on her neck. "I'm glad you texted me tonight."

"I couldn't resist after seeing you. The wine helped, of course."

"It's late. Why don't we go up to bed and sleep. In the morning, we can do what you invited me here for."

She sat up abruptly. "That makes it sound so sleazy! I didn't text you solely for sex! This wasn't a booty call!"

"You invited me over to talk?"

"Actually, I was just thinking that sitting and conversing with you is wonderful. We didn't spend enough time talking in Palm Springs, so it's nice that we're doing it now."

I knew I'd probably regret what I was going to say, but I plowed forward anyway. "Then let's not have sex at all. When do your children get home?"

"Tomorrow at seven because they're going to dinner at their grandparents first."

"I'll stay until six-thirty. We can spend the whole day focusing on getting to know each other in a non-sexual way. Does that work, or do you have plans?"

The look on her pretty face made it obvious this suggestion surprised her. "My only plan was to cut some roses for a bouquet and weed my garden."

"I'll help. I will also make you those delicious eggs you never got to have when Bertie broke his arm. Do you have eggs, spinach, and feta."

"I think so. You really want to just hang out together? Like friends?"

I wrapped my arms around her. "I didn't say it would be completely platonic, but sex is off the table. We're going to start this celibacy-fest by snuggling in bed together."

As if on cue, Abigail yawned. "Bed and cuddles sounds really good right now."

We went upstairs, and I removed all my clothing except for my boxers. Then we stood side by side in her bathroom brushing our teeth, which felt wonderfully comfortable, like we should be doing this together every night. While she slept in my arms, I contemplated how I had less than twenty-four hours to convince her to give us another shot, and if I was lucky, maybe she'd develop the same feelings I had.

I woke up to a numb arm, but I didn't mind one bit. Abigail was spooned against my body, and her head was resting in the crook of my elbow. Her breathing was slow and steady, indicating that she was still sound asleep. I, however, needed to pee badly. As I debated how long I could hold my bladder, she stirred slightly. A moment later she rolled over to face me. "Good morning," I said softly before kissing her nose.

"Sorry I ruined last night. I shouldn't have texted you when I was drinking."

"You didn't ruin anything."

She smiled at me and my heart started to beat faster. "Only because you are so understanding. I know you suggested not having sex at all, but we're allowed to rethink that, right?"

"We are, but I'd prefer that we don't."

Her expression changed. "You don't want to have sex with me?"

"I've never wanted anything more, baby, but it's important to me that you understand that I didn't come over here for that. I missed you and I wanted to see you again."

"I thought we both understood that this can't go anywhere."

I sat up. "I have to pee really badly. After I do that, I'm going to make you breakfast. Then we're going to talk."

Once we were in the kitchen, I directed her to sit on one of the stools while I pretended to be the host of a cooking show. Her kitchen was perfect for this since the gas cooktop was on the large counter island. "The key to really fluffy eggs is to add a little bit of cold water when you're beating them," I said in my professional voice as I demonstrated the technique. I put some butter in the pan. "You can use an oil spray, but I find that butter adds to the richness of the flavor." I held up the pan to show how much I'd added. "Don't skimp on it."

She giggled and took a sip of her coffee.

"I'm going to put your bread in the toaster now so that the timing is perfect. A nice hearty whole grain bread, like the one we are using today, goes beautifully with this scramble. If you're gluten-free like I am, you can use a bread made without wheat flour." I pressed the lever to start the toaster and returned to the cooktop. "Don't add your eggs until the pan is hot. Pour them all in at once and let them sit for a second. Then gently move the eggs around using a spatula, like this." I deftly pushed the eggs towards the center and then spread them out again. "Once they are around fifty percent cooked, you toss in the feta and spinach. Spinach is a funny thing to work with since you have to add way more than you think you need. Watch how much I put in!" I added almost half a bag of the baby spinach she thankfully had in her fridge along with a generous portion of Israeli feta from Erewhon.

"No salt and pepper?" she asked.

"A question from the audience! Great! I prefer to add it to taste when I'm done. Some chefs insist that adding salt when you beat your eggs is better, but after a few incidents of adding too much, I gave up on that method." I used the spatula to incorporate the wilting spinach. "Our eggs are almost done. You never want to cook them to the point where there's browning, so I take them off the heat while they are still a little shiny. They'll continue to cook for a minute, and this ensures the perfect texture."

She raised her hand, and I pointed the spatula towards her. "Another question from the lovely lady in the front row."

"Do you often cook in just your underwear?" she queried.

Neither of us put clothes on before coming downstairs. I was wearing a pair of my black boxer briefs from my collaboration with Tommy Hilfiger, and she had on the t-shirt I'd worn the night before. I assumed there were panties underneath, but I hadn't checked.

"I do! I find it freeing to cook nearly-naked," I responded as I removed her toast slice.

"Seems like it could be a little dangerous when you're frying something in oil."

I laughed. "That's what aprons are for. Our breakfast is complete! I'm going to spoon your eggs on the toast, forming an open-faced sandwich. You can season this however you like, but I personally like a dash or two of hot sauce or harissa."

"You like things spicy?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed I do. That's it for today's episode of Mendes in the Kitchen! Join me tomorrow when I reheat some restaurant leftovers!"

She stood up and applauded. "Bravo! This is a show I'd definitely watch!"

"Another potential career if music fails." I placed her plate in front of her before coming around the counter and sitting down with my own.

She took a bite of breakfast. "Oh my god. This is so good! I didn't know you were gluten-free. Sorry I don't have any bread that you can eat."

"No worries about the bread. I'm used to going without. And I told you it's my speciality! Everyone I've made it for has loved it."

"Do you make this for all the women who sleep over?"

I felt my cheeks turning pink, a "tell" that made it nearly impossible for me to lie with any conviction. "Not every woman, no. I reserve my eggs for the special ones, and you're on that list."

Abigail touched my arm. "You know I'm just teasing, right? I don't care about who you have sex with. We never had a relationship so it's a non-issue."

"What we had was brief, but while I was with you, it felt like something real. This...what we're doing right now...it feels real."

She took another bite. "Did I already say how good these are? I'm definitely making them for my kids."

I let out a sigh and ate my eggs.