Divorced! Now what?
Chapter 22

Theo

POV

The meal was superb. I was looking forward to taking some home for a quick meal. This woman can cook. If this is what I am in for, I hope to have more opportunities to eat here.

We were sitting on her balcony. The stress of the day faded away as I enjoyed her company. I watched the city rush about below, the night lights and moving traffic reminding me that life was still going on below. Yet, up here, I had never felt so relaxed and content before. It was as if I did not need to fill the quiet space with unnecessary words.

I took her hand in mine and kissed it. The urge to touch her was strong. If she is willing, I would like to take her to bed again. The last time was unbelievable. For days, I would start to get hard when I thought of that night and her moans of pleasure. I had never been like that before. Once I had bedded a woman, I don't usually keep reliving it; it is to fulfill a need, and nothing more, yet when I took Bethany to bed, it felt like it was more than being sating the need. I wanted to see if it was a one-off.

Bethany did not try to take her hand back. We both continued to watch the city activity, the sounds of sirens and blaring honks of horns, occasionally interrupting the soft music coming from the stereo in the lounge room. This did not detract from the mood; it just seemed to add to it, as if slowly building the need within me, strange as it may sound.

'Coffee?' Bethany asked, making me turn to look at her.

'Sounds good, want a hand?' I offered as I stood up to follow Bethany back into the kitchen.

'Sure.' I watched her as she walked in front of me. What? I am a man, and it is right there in front of me. How can I not look and enjoy it? But that is a fine backside and those long legs. She had bare feet, and I noticed she had nail polish on them, yet she did not put polish on her fingernails. I wondered if her job was why she did not put polish on. Our medical staff is not permitted to have nail polish in the theater, and the woman who is our hospital phlebotomist is not allowed, so there are many places, like my sister, the chef, where she does not wear nail polish. So, it should not surprise me; it just made me wonder what type of job she has. She mentioned starting her new job on Monday. I had thought of asking her but then thought better of it. Talking about work when you are home is the best thing to do. If she moves jobs because of work issues, I might open a problem she does not wish to discuss.

Come to think of it, I know almost nothing about her. I have yet to ask the usual questions, like do you have siblings, and generally get to know your stuff. We have yet to share our mobile numbers, and I am considering bedding her again. My mum would be horrified if she knew what I had been up to, but then I comforted her, which led to a little more than a hug. Would she call it a pity fuk? Mind you, my Mum does not use those types of words, and I would get a flick of her tea towel if she heard me using them. She has a knack for flicking it, so the end hits you and stings like blazes.

'Can you get the mugs?' Bethany floated around the kitchen, getting the coffee beans and grinding them, opened the fridge, and pulled out the milk and a cheesecake. Wow, she made my day. I love cheesecake, especially homemade. Mum loves to cook and take them to the women's shelter. She will make us some on our Sunday family lunch if we are lucky.

Bethany cut the cheesecake into two slices, covered it, and placed it back in the fridge. I almost asked if I could have some to take home, but then I smirked. I can always come here to grab a coffee and cheesecake, an excellent excuse to come over, not that I have needed an excuse so far.

Seeing the cheesecake, I grabbed two plates and a fork out of the drawer and placed them with napkins on the table. I learned early in my life how to be helpful around the kitchen. It helped us get the food on the table quicker. It was cleaning up the dishes and clearing the table side of things. It was always a drag. I may have three sisters, but I still have to do my share of the housework. My mother said it was to train me for when I am a bachelor and have to cook and clean my own home. She is right, but it was still a drag. We all fought it over the years as youngsters, whose turn to wash the pots and put the dishes in the dishwasher, who was to do the table, and so on. Nearly every family would have the same issue. No kid wants to do chores. Even keeping our own room can be a drag. At least my Mum changed the sheets. I never had to worry about that.

She was sitting at the table, eating the cheesecake that was so smooth and a lot of lemon zest that made the cheesecake pop. Bethany seemed to be miles away in thought. I wanted to ask what was going on in her mind, but the look on her face told me to wait. If she wanted to talk about it, she would, having consoled my mother and sisters often enough to know, to wait for them, and pushing to get answers before they are ready to talk can backfire faster than clearing a room after a smelly fart.

My thoughts drifted back to the day we met and how tired and hurt she looked to how she looks now. She has put a lot of her hurt into hiding, and she does not look so tired and vulnerable. I am impressed with how fast she is bouncing back from whatever hurt her. I would like to ask about the person treating her like an ATM, but it is not my place to probe. If I had been a good neighbor, I would have knocked on the door and let her know I was hearing her conversation, given her a chance to take it off speaker, and not walk right into a conversation she would most likely not have shared with a stranger. She is so different from the money grabber that was in this penthouse. You can see she is kind and caring, not one to take advantage of others.

A loud bang came from outside, and we both turned to look out the window. Fireworks bloomed in the sky, red and blue sprayed out in a flower of bright color. It was not a holiday, and I tried to think about what could have been the reason for the fireworks. 'The baseball finals must be over. Bethany said softly, almost too quiet for me to hear, and I wondered if she meant to say it out loud.

"Baseball? You follow baseball?' I was shocked.

'My Dad loves all sports, and we watch football and baseball games together when we can. As a kid, he took me to watch a Dodgers game once. It was amazing. It's so different when you go to a game than when you watch TV! 'Yeah, I agree. I was into ice hockey as a kid. It was what our school promoted, but I enjoyed football. We could have game days together.

'That sounds nice. We could invite him along if my Dad is not working too. I know how much he would enjoy that.' 'Yes, we can. I can ask my Dad, too. I don't think my sisters are into football,' I said, excited. This meant we would be seeing each other again without having to ask the question.