Page 51 of Full Contact

I smiled and set it back. On the shelf to the left of the mirror, I unpacked my face wash and moisturizer. Then I put my toothbrush beside his in the fish’s mouth. There was room for both.

When I came back, he’d unpacked dinner on the dining table, a square of lasagna on each plate. Peaches was rubbing her body against a leg of the table.

“Hello, Peaches,” I said.

She looked at me and then moved to the next table leg.

“She ate well today—all of her breakfast and most of her lunch. She’s back to close supervision of me too. I consider that a sign of health.”

I seated myself by one of the plates, and Trier pulled a large wooden bowl of salad from the fridge. He put that on the table and carried a platter full of bread from the kitchen.

“They sent enough bread to feed the neighborhood,” Trier said.

“Then you ordered right.”

As he sat, Trier asked about my day.

“Felix sent me a link to a knife sharpener. That’s the third time this month.”

“Do you need one?”

“He thinks so. Last time he came over for dinner, he brought his sharpener and sharpened every knife I owned before he’d let me cut a tomato.”

“Were they dull?”

“I’d been using them,” I said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Felix would agree with you.”

Trier smiled. “My advice—go for the sharpener.”

“I told him he could give me one for my birthday. He said he didn’t think I should wait that long.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“June sixteenth.”

He shook his head. “That’s a lot of tomatoes.”

“He still comes over to cook,” I said.

“Of course he does. He’s worried about you.”

Trier was enjoying himself. I told him about Felix taking everything out of my utensil drawer to prove that I owned three bottle openers and nothing that could reliably peel a carrot.

With only a few bites of lasagna left, we compared calendars for the following week. Trier had practice, two home games, video sessions, and a team dinner. I had Tuesday climbing, the broadcast follow-ups, and an opera. Thursday evening was open for both of us.

“You don’t mind that Tuesdays are taken?” I asked.

“They got you first.”

“Some people would mind.”

“I want to see you Thursday. On Tuesday, it’s fine for you to hang off a climbing wall.”

I’d dated men who wanted me to explain why I couldn’t climb some other night. Trier asked what time I usually finished, then passed me the bread.