An hour later, the gate chimes and I press the button to let Dustin in. When he approaches the door, I open it.
“Here’s the soup.” He hands me a warm plastic container with a lid. There must be at least three servings of soup in it. “There’s croissant rolls in the car. Just a sec.”
My heart melts. When he comes back with the rolls, I wave him inside, all my resolve crumbling. “Come in.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude. I know you’re not feeling well.”
My heart warms at the concern in his eyes. “I think the company will do me good.”
“Then let me dish up your soup.” He hands me the plate of rolls, still warm, and takes the container of soup into the kitchen.
I devour a roll. It’s light, buttery, and flaky and tastes like it came from a little shop in Paris. I sit on the couch and pull the afghan over me. Squint jumps on my lap and yawns.
“Do you want to eat it in here?” Dustin asks as he enters the living room.
“Yes. Thank you.” I take the bowl from him. It’s steamy and smells like heaven.
“What about you?”
“I already ate. I expected to just drop the soup off. I didn’t think you’d be up for company.”
“Please, sit.” I feel bad for lying and saying I was sick. I dip the spoon in and take a sip. My nose was right. It’s amazing. Squint sniffs the bowl.
“Did you make this from scratch?”
“Sort of. I cheated on the chicken.”
I raise one eyebrow as I take another sip. “Exactly how does one cheat on a chicken?”
He chuckles, and I enjoy how the sound reverberates in his chest. “I bought a rotisserie chicken. It would have taken a lot longer for me to cook the chicken, and with a rotisserie you get all the flavor from the juice.”
I’m seriously touched that he made me chicken noodle soup from scratch. “You went out and bought one, just for me?”
Dustin gives me a sheepish grin. “Well, my personal assistant went out and bought one just for you.”
“Close enough.” I scoop up some noodles. They practically melt in my mouth. “Are these homemade noodles?”
He shrugs. “They’re not that hard to make.”
He went through a lot of trouble for me. I try to remind myself that it could be because of the lawsuit, but I’m having a hard time believing it anymore. If there was a way to test him…maybe I could figure out if he’s acting or not. Maybe if I probe him further, get him to open up to me, maybe I can tell if he’s lying. As I eat his amazing soup and croissant rolls, I try to think of things to ask him.
I nudge his knee. “So, you said you were auditioning for a role. Something about a CPR mannequin?”
Dustin nods. “Yeah, there’s this show I am auditioning for tomorrow. It’s a new show called Hit the Beach. I’m auditioning for the part of a lifeguard, so I figured I should know how to give CPR.”
That made sense. “Do you have anything else coming up?”
“Just some commercials I’m shooting next month. I’ve been taking some time off after my last movie.”
I nod and bite into another croissant. After I swallow I ask, “What do you usually do during your time off?”
“I actually love the alone time. I’m an introvert, so being around a lot of people saps my energy.”
I stare at him. “Really?”
“Yeah, why?”
I shake my head. “I’m the exact same way.” How would he have known that? This couldn’t be a fabricated answer. Jera’s not an introvert. If he did research ahead of time to try to get Jera to like him, he wouldn’t have said that. He would have said he’s an extrovert and loves glitz and glamor.
He smiles. “I’ve found we have a lot in common.”
“What are your life goals?” I hope he doesn’t think the question is odd. I really want to know.
He takes a moment to assess the question before answering. “If you would have asked me ten years ago, I would have rattled off a list of goals about my career. But I no longer think that way.”
“Oh?” I scoop out some chicken. “Why not?”
Dustin shifts in the seat and looks at me with his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Because younger me was obsessed with building my career. But I’ve done that. I’m a household name. I’ve gotten the lead roles. Won awards. Now I’m starting to think that having a lucrative career isn’t all there is to life.”
I curl a strand of my hair behind my ear. “So, what are your goals now?”
“My goals have shifted toward being complete. Doing what really makes me happy. Having a family. I’ve never had one. Not really. My parents did the best they could, but they were busy with their careers.” He looks down at the coffee table. “They still are.”
I suddenly understand him on a deeper level. “I get it,” I say quietly. “I know what it’s like to be alone.”
He puts a hand on my leg, and I can feel the warmth of him even through the afghan. “I wouldn’t have believed you a month ago. You looked like you were the life of the party. But now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I can see that.”
“I don’t really have any friends. Not anyone I’m close to,” I admit.
“How close are you with your sister?”
I finish the last of my soup and set the bowl down on the table. I shift, curling up against Dustin. He puts his arm around me, and I give him some of my blanket. Squint shifts and curls up again by my feet.
“We used to be really close,” I say. “We don’t talk as much anymore. We live very different lives.”
“Tell me about her. What’s her name?”
I hesitate because this could get into awkward territory really quickly. But something makes me want to press forward. “Mackenzie. She’s my younger sister. We used to do everything together. Then…we grew up, I guess. And grew apart.”
He presses his cheek against the top of my head. “That has to be difficult.”
I think about all the times when Jera and I would play checkers together, or when we’d hike in the hills near our home. We didn’t have a lot of money for things like video games, so we made up our own things to do. I do miss those times. “I should reach out more,” I say, mostly to myself.
“I bet she would like that.”
I close my eyes, full and content. “Thank you for the soup. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome. How are you feeling?”
I know he’s asking about my fake illness, but I can’t help but think of how unsure I was after hearing Jera insist that Dustin was acting nice to get something from me. But now, as I snuggle into Dustin, I’m pretty sure Jera is mistaken. Dustin can’t be fooling me. He’s too genuine.
“Much better,” I say as I wrap my arms around him.
He kisses the top of my head. “Good.”
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