Page 70 of You'll Love it Here

“Everyone except for Carmen. Him I take for granted.”

I giggle. “So what did I miss? Man, I shouldn’t have left.”

“Honestly, not much.” He ruffles his hair, smiling to himself. “I organized a vote on the color for the rec room. They had to have a recount twice before they decided on a lighter green, but I told them to hold off on buying anything until you gave them the all-clear. Then they started wondering where you were. When it became apparent you weren’t coming back as quickly as planned, I gave them snacks and told them to discuss among themselves any other building issues. A lot of the things were complaints about interpersonal things like noises through the floors—nothing you could work out. I think it was healing for them to be able to communicate with one another like that, though, for what it’s worth.” Sami’s grin is cheeky. “They pretty much left after cleaning me out for snacks. A few were eager to finish tidying the rec room. But some are going to message you a few questions about the garden.”

I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for Sami. “Wow, Sami. You’re the best.” I pause. “And I was such a piece of shit, leaving you to handle that.”

“Eh, it was nothing. It’s just nice to see neighbors caring about the community. And that’s thanks to you.”

I look away from the reverent look he’s giving me. His voice thickens just a little. “Can I get you a glass of celebratory wine for a job well done?”

“A wine would be lovely,” I say as brightly as I can muster.

Sami returns with a bottle and two wineglasses. “So, this is my first time attempting this stew but I think it’s a banger. It might be better enjoyed over there.”

My eyes follow where he’s looking, toward the back booth. We’ve never eaten at a table together—always on either side of the counter, while he was standing and I was sitting. The soft way he’s looking at me brings a flutter to my stomach. It’s just a table; it doesn’t make a difference.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, standing up.

“Just give me a few minutes,” Sami says. “I’m going to shut down the kitchen so we can chill. Wine and industrial kitchens don’t mix.”

“I’ve heard that before,” I joke.

Sami disappears to the back and returns with two plates of steaming stew on rice—quickly enough that he must have had it already prepared. It occurs to me that he’s been planning for us to eat together this whole time. “So, I made a beef and eggplant stew that’s sort of like a French bourguignon and a Persian eggplant khoresh fusion. This would appall Abu, but you’re like the only person who might appreciate it.”

The rich scent of the beef stew deepened by red wine and saffron wafts through my nostrils and sends a warmth through my insides.

“Sami, this is amazing of you.” I put my hand to my heart. “Ihave never eaten so well in my life since we became friends. Should I start calling you Chef?”

“Eh. No need for that.” He shakes his head, his eyes darting to his feet. “This is my hobby, so I’m just happy to have someone to eat with. And I figured you’d be hungry after the town hall.” I note the nervous way he raps his fingers on the table.

“Well, this is great.” I scrape up a steaming forkful. It’s so beautiful. I take the first bite and it’s like my tastebuds are being born for the first time. Sami’s watching my reaction to the dish carefully. No one’s ever taken care of me like this. Eventually, Sami will realize I was never worth it. But I’m overcome with a need to make sure he knows how much I appreciate it. Before thinking too hard, I reach across the table and pat the top of his hand. “Sami, it’s like you took a part of my heart and made it into food.”

“Whoa, that’s the best one so far. I should put that on a T-shirt.” His lips twitch. “The whole time I was cooking I was thinking how you’d react.”

I picture him in the kitchen, thinking about me even when I wasn’t there. And again I’m overcome with this feeling... a need I don’t quite understand, to make sure he knows. I lean closer. “Sami, seriously, thank you. For everything tonight. The way you’ve kind of been so welcoming and helpful to me, ever since I was a total wretch at your place of business, has been just really... cool.”

“Of course.” His voice thickens, his smile a little shy. “You’ve done a lot for me too.” He pauses, then adds, “For the whole community.”

His gaze is too admiring. I’ve not earned this at all. I have to look away. I only wish there was a world where I wasn’t completely destroying a little building he cares about, basically the only place with customers who still come to the diner.

I wish we’d met before all this happened. Before the secrets, before I knew he’d eventually hate me.

But then again, back then I never would have given him a chance. I would have completely missed how amazing he is.

“I’m glad I was craving cheese fries that night,” I whisper, before thinking better of it. But it’s one of the few things I can be honest about with him. “If that’s what led to me eating this stew, it was totally worth it.”

He laughs. “You came in like a hurricane that night. It’s maddening that you’ve been living so close to my world for five years and we never spoke.” Again, there’s a look in his eyes, like he’s seeing the only thing in the world worth looking at.

I don’t deserve it.

I shove another gigantic bite into my mouth to hide my shame. If I hadn’t had a complete meltdown, I never would have really seen him. Never would have cared about any of these people. But becoming fond of them doesn’t change a thing. It just means everything is going to hurt more.

But I’m used to shutting things off. I can survive this on my own. I’ve made it this far.

I swallow the last of my food as Sami tells me about the time the video store that used to be across the street ruined his attempts to get R-rated movies, because Abu paid them off. I giggle and let myself fall into this moment, push away all the things I know are coming. If Lana sells the building to Missy and Robin, maybe it’ll all be over tomorrow. But sometimes it feels like there’s this other world I’m occupying where Sami and I make sense. I feel it in the small moments like this, when we’re eating or walking Ernest. And every time I’m pulled back out of that world it’s like being hit by a brick.

I don’t want to leave it just yet.