“That’s not even a word.”
“It is now. And if you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your offer for tomorrow.”
“What time should I be here?”
“Ten?”
She smiles, and we stare at each other some more.
“Okay, well…” She grabs her keys from the counter and stuffs them in her pocket. “I hope dinner is good. Fingers crossed no one throws up.”
A burst of laughter comes from my mouth. “No kidding. Where are you going?”
“Home. Well, back to Nick and Jessa’s.”
“I thought you said they’re having dinner with her parents tonight?”
“They are. I’ll have the place to myself for a few hours. Who knows, maybe I’ll hit up a drive-thru on my way home. Haven’t done that in years.”
“Or you can stay and have dinner with us. You know, in case someone throws up. It’s only fair that you help clean up the mess since you cooked the food.”
She laughs. “I really don’t think anyone will throw up.”
“And I really want you to stay for dinner.”
She blinks a couple of times, seeming surprised at my offer. The hopeful look in her eyes is almost too much. Hasn’t anyone ever done something nice for this girl?
“Please?” I add.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“You made the food; you should at least get to enjoy it. And really, my kids probably won’t eat much, and I sure as heck can’t finish all of that. Plus, it’ll be nice to have another adult in the room. Stay. Have dinner with me—I mean us. Have dinner with us.”
She’s still smiling, and now there’s a glint in her eye. “Okay.”
I pull out a chair and motion for her to sit. “Sit. You cooked. I’ll take care of everything else.”
How is t
his happening? It wasn’t long ago that I saw Nora on the news after some scandal involving her ex-boyfriend, and now she’s sitting at my kitchen table getting ready to have dinner with us.
She takes the offered chair. “I can’t remember the last time I had dinner with someone other than Nick and Jessa.”
“Who do you eat with while you’re on tour?” I ask, grabbing the plates from the cupboard.
I lay them out on the table, along with the silverware, and I rummage in the refrigerator for some bottles of water and juice boxes.
“I usually eat by myself.”
I stop and look at her. “Every meal?”
I don’t like the thought of her eating by herself. No wonder she’s lonely.
“Every meal,” she repeats, lifting a shoulder. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“No one should get used to eating alone. I don’t know why, but I assumed you had a ton of people to eat with.”
“Like who?”