While Cohen poured us each a healthy glass of wine, I pulled the serving dish of pasta from inside the oven, where I’d set it to keep warm. I removed the hot loaf of French bread next, and placed it on the stone block to slice. Cohen helped me move everything over the barstool seating area at the end of the long island. I grabbed the butter and a green salad from the fridge and joined him on a stool.
He removed his pager and set it beside him. “Hopefully I don’t get a call tonight.” It was strange to think that at any moment he could be summoned away, his evening interrupted. “Cheers.” He clinked his wine glass with mine and we both took a sip. It was my favorite white wine, Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio. It was crisp and refreshing and paired perfectly with the light pasta meal.
I watched Cohen take a bite and chew. He closed his eyes just briefly, savoring the bite of crisp basil pesto and pine nuts, balanced by the heavy cream. “You’re a great cook,” he offered after several more bites.
“Thanks.” I relaxed a little more in my seat and began eating.
We kept up an easy conversation during dinner, pausing to tease each other, or smile and sip our wine. It was nice. Though I enjoyed cooking, I rarely did so for myself. It just seemed like too much of a hassle for one person. I usually ate a bag of microwave popcorn or a bowl of cereal for dinner instead, but it was nice having someone to cook for.
Cohen’s pager rattled nosily against the granite island. He picked it up and frowned as he read the message.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “I can’t go on a call if I’ve had more than two drinks.”
Oh. “Is it okay if you miss one?”
He nodded. “I don’t like to, and I have to make it to at least fifty-percent of all calls to stay active, but it should be fine.”
He turned off the pager and went back to eating.
Cohen suddenly dropped his fork against the side of his plate, the clinking sound startling me. “Are there nuts in this?”
I looked from the pasta to the panicked expression on his face. “Um, yes, there are pine nuts in the sauce. Why, what’s wrong?”
He leapt from his seat, his napkin fluttering to the floor. “I’m allergic. Where’s the bathroom?”
I was too stunned to answer and instead pointed down the hall. Cohen took off jogging in the direction I’d indicated. The first door he opened was a broom closet. I quickly followed behind him to steer him into the guest bathroom farther down the hall. He fell to his knees over the toilet bowl and threw up nosily.
Eek. I cringed away from the sound of him coughing and vomiting. I felt terrible. How was I supposed to know he was allergic to pine nuts?
Once he was finished, he wiped his mouth with a wad of toilet paper and sank to the floor and sat with his back against the wall. I reached over and flushed the toilet. Cohen’s eyes met mine and he groaned. I don’t think he’d realized I was still in the room with him. His skin was pale and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I think so.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. I took a washcloth from the basket near the sink and wet it with cold water. I wrung it out and knelt down near Cohen. I pressed the cool washcloth to his forehead.
He briefly opened his eyes. “Thanks,” he croaked.
“I feel terrible, Cohen. I didn’t mean...”
“You didn’t know. It’s okay. I should’ve asked, but I didn’t see any nuts.” He closed his eyes again and relaxed against the wall while I continued to dab the cool cloth against his flushed skin. He really was beautiful. I’d never recalled thinking of a man as beautiful before, but Cohen truly was.
He opened his eyes and studied me. I realized I’d stopped moving the cloth and was just staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I moved the cloth to the back of his neck.
He dropped his head between his knees, giving me better access. “That feels nice.”
A pain sprang through my chest and I stood abruptly, suddenly needing some space away from this tender moment.
Cohen stood a minute later. “Sorry I ruined dinner.”
“Are you kidding? You do not need to apologize. I could have killed you.”
He chuckled. “I’m not deathly allergic. I just get really sick. Seriously, I’m fine now. And it tasted really good.”
“Before you threw it up?” I said wryly.
“Exactly.” He smiled.
I rolled my eyes. Boys. “Do you want to go lie down?”
“Ah, sure. If you’ll come with me.” He grinned. “We can watch a movie.”
“Sounds good.”
After we quickly cleaned up the kitchen, Cohen led the way back upstairs to his apartment where Bob was eagerly awaiting our return. Cohen kept him from mauling me, and I made a halfhearted attempt at petting him, but it was so obvious I wasn’t a dog person, Cohen just laughed and told Bob to go lie down. Bob flopped himself unceremoniously onto the wood floor and laid his head on his paws.
I looked around the living room for the first time noticing there was no TV. Before I could question how we were going to watch a movie, Cohen led the way to his bedroom.
There was a large flat screen television mounted on his wall across from the bed. “This okay?” Cohen held up the DVD case for a romantic comedy I hadn’t yet seen.
I stifled my surprise that he owned the movie, and nodded instead. “Sure.”