Page 72 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty
“I thought you didn’t cook?” he said.
Feyi looked up from the skillet, startled, then blushed when she saw him. “Ah, I still can’t.” She laughed. “But I wanted to make you something.”
Alim poured himself a glass of water, then sat at the kitchen counter, his shirt slick to his chest with sweat. “This looks like more than a little something.”
“It’s just a sandwich.” Feyi flipped it over in the skillet and tried not to feel too self-conscious that he was watching her. “It’s no big deal.” She lifted the sandwich out once all the cheese was melted and plated it. “How do you like your halves?”
“Diagonal tastes better, don’t you think?”
“Facts.” Feyi cut the sandwich and slid it in front of Alim, not quite meeting his eyes. This was all suddenly so juvenile, making a fucking grilled cheese sandwich because that was the only thing she could think of, the best thing she could come up with. Feyi was turning back to clean up and wipe away any evidence that she’d had this terrible idea when Alim reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Hey,” he said, and Feyi had to look at him then.
The tension that had been in his face before he left was gone now, worked out somewhere during his run. “Thank you for this,” he told her.
“You haven’t even tasted it.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Feyi sighed and leaned on the counter across from him. “I just wanted you to know that I care, Alim. Even if I’m shit at showing it sometimes.”
Alim picked up half the sandwich and bit into it, Feyi watching as he chewed. It was fine if the sandwich sucked, she decided. It had been more of a gesture anyway. Still, when he looked up at her with genuine pleasure in his eyes, Feyi exhaled in relief.
“It’s not trash?”
“It’s really good, Feyi.” He tilted the sandwich and examined it. “Caramelized onions?”
Feyi beamed. “Yeah, I found this recipe online.”
Alim shook his head and took another bite. “What’s amazing is that you’ve gotten away with me doing the cooking all this time.” He shot her a look. “Were you pretending to not know how to slice carrots the other day just to seduce me into helping you?”
She flicked a tea towel at him, laughing as she started to clean up. “No! I just wanted to know how thinly you wanted them sliced. Nobody asked you to come put your arms around me—you did all that on your own.”
Alim chuckled. “That’s fair,” he said.
“Do you have a therapist?” she asked, wiping down the stove so she didn’t have to see his reaction. There was a surprised pause before he replied, but Alim didn’t sound too thrown that she’d asked.
“I do,” he answered. “We talk a few times a year at this point, but I’ve been with them for a long time now. Why do you ask?”
Feyi put down the tea towel and came around the counter to sit next to Alim. “I’ve made an appointment with mine, and I think you should talk to yours, too. This is … a lot going on, and I have Joy, but I legit don’t see you talking to anyone about all this. Like, where are your friends? Who are the people in your support circle?”
Alim’s eyes creased as he smiled. “I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he said. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
Feyi touched his knee. “Of course.”
“As for the friendships, I’m not so much of a loner to not have any,” he teased. “I’d say Phillip and Rebecca, but I hav-en’t told her about this yet. I’m thinking of how to phrase it without sounding like I seduced one of her artists.”
“Didn’t you?”
Alim finished off the last bite of the sandwich. “I wasn’t the one licking mango foam off fingers, Feyi.” He smirked as the memory flushed through her, then stood up and cupped her face in his hands. “Thank you for that, for waking me up,” he said.
Feyi leaned into his palm, a trace of oiled rosemary wafting off his skin.
“We’re going to be okay,” she said. “One way or another. We’ll figure this out.”
Alim looked unexpectedly vulnerable. “Do you really think so?”
She thought of Jonah and Marisol and hungry graves and mad grief. “We’re alive,” she reminded him, sliding her hands under his shirt and up his back. “We have time.”