As I ge from my job hunting clothes into something more casual I filled with really positive feeling of…I ’t even describe it. Tranquility? Gratitude? Simple joy? It was a bunotions rolled into one. I had opened up to Heather and shared a bit of inner self, something that did not e naturally to me, and not only had she not made me feel weak somehow I actually felt stronger. With Bir I always had to be cautious in revealing too much as she had this way of jabbing me where it hurt even as she was ‘f’ me on the surface.

  I choose a blue v shirt. It was one of the few shirts I owhat wasn’t bbzoned with some pop culture character or refereo put iher’s words, it wasn’t ‘boyish’. Boyish was the st thing that I wanted Heather to see me as. With each passing hour I wanted more and more for her to see me as a man. A younger man, sure, a man starving for a bit of care and attention, so be it, but a man heless. Sadly I didn’t have any of the tight fitting jeans that liked to see on men with ‘cute bums’ so I am stuck with choosing the least baggy of the three pairs that I owned. I make a o myself to get myself some snug denim the first ce I had.

  Strolling bato the kit I pause beside the refrigerator just admire Heather’s thick curves and big, beautiful booty. If I wanted her to look at me like a man it was only proper I started looking at her like the geous woman that she was.

  Peeking over her shoulder she catches me cheg her out. She smirks as I pull my eyes from her butt to look her in the eyes. She nods to the ter across the sink from where she was already finishing up the pie crust. “You’re on spud duty.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I sidle up the ter and start washing the three potatoes she had there.

  “Peel them and shred them.” She says as she s the ball of raw dough and puts it into the fridge to chill.

  I begin to peel the taters and go the opposite ter as she ys out ingredients. “What’s the wine for?”

  “The gravy.” She says.

  “Oh.”

  “Your Mum didn’t use wine?”

  “No.” I say. “We didn’t shred the potatoes either.”

  “You’ll love it.” She says. “The wine adds sweetness and the shredded potato crust is sooo scrumptious.”

  “Huh.”

  “If you wao make it like your…”

  “No!” I insisted. “No, no, no. I want to try yours. I just never seen it done any other way.”

  “More than one way to pot a pie.” She winks with a merry grin.

  Side by side we chat as we make our dinner. Under Heather’s exag but encing guidance I peel, chop, shred and dice a host of differeables as she does all the more plicated bits. While the dish was the same every little thing about it was different than how my family used to prepare it. The wine in the sauce, the shredded potatoes, the mushrooms finely diced instead of left ky, and so much more. Simultaneously I was on a nostalgia ride while also creating a fresh memory that I just knew I would look ba with fondness iure. There were echoes of a happier time but the mood, the energy, and the panionship was something wonderful and new.

  Heather was sht. She would never repce my mom. She couldn’t if she wao. And thank God for that! While I adored her naturally maternal aura my attra to her was anything but familial. I’d been blessed with one perfect mother and a damn fiher too, both of whom still lived inside my heart, and that was enough for any man. Iher I’d found something else.

  “What?” She peers over as she catches me staring.

  “Nothing.” I look away aurn to chopping the st bit of green beans.

  She shakes her head with a giggle. “Silly boy.”

  With the fiouches plete Heather slides the pie into the oven, bumping the door closed the st few inches with her curvy hip. Looking at me for a few seds she says. “It looks good on you.” Looking down to see if she was making some joke about something I spilled on myself I find nothing on my pin shirt. When I look back up at her for answer she quips. “The smile I mean. It’s nice. You should wear it more.”

  “Oh!” She wanted a smile and boy do I give her one. A real oraight from my heart.

  She beams right back. “I’m just going to go water the flowers. Make yourself at home.”

  “Um…I do that for you.” I am quick to offer.

  “You sure?”

  “I’d love to.”

  She smiles and pats my cheek. “Go on then.”

  Before I know it I am outside searg for the hose. It doesn’t take long before I find not a hose but a watering sitting uhe outside spigot instead. I fill the and give the first row of her flowers a good dreng. There was a strange sort of satisfa I felt in doing this for her. It didn’t feel like a chore at all. In fact, out here in the fresh air bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, there was nothing else I’d rather be doing right now. With her as my queen I was one happy and willing little worker bee.

  “Yoing to drown my little darlings.” Heather chuckles as she es outside to sit on her front step.

  “Sorry.” I ugh.

  With the door propped open behind her she leans forward, elbows on knees and hands csped together, and watches me work. “That’s better. Just a good queng drink.”

  The watering done I jog back to the step to take a seat beside her. I’m not even sure if she realizes it but the moment I was settled she shifts ever so slightly closer to me.

  We sit looking out over the big park across the street. “Lovely night tonight”

  “Yes.” She says as her haly begins to very slowly rub up and down my back. What tiny bit of tension I had in my shoulders melts to her teouch. “It’s almost perfect.”

  “I like it here, Heather.”

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s even nicer when there’s someoo share it with.” She whispers and slides her hand around the side of my waist and pulls tight to my side. Her body felt so soft and warm.

  “Yeah.”

  Desding into a fortable silence we sit and watch the world py out before us…until the shrill ring of my phone shatters the peaceful moment. I dig the phone from my pocket and look down at the s.

  “It’s Bir.”

  “What does she want!?” Heather snaps, a fierce timbre to her voice.

  I look over at her, surprised by her rea.

  Immediately she realizes what she’d done and bows her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Elliot.” She says. “We tend to bee a bit…possessive of our honey boys.” With a sigh she adds. “It’s a difficult instinct to suppress sometimes.”

  “You’re possessive of me?”

  “No.” She says ftly. “No I am not. I’ve got it under trol. I am in trol.” As it rings again she nods to it. “You should ahat. Could be something important.” With that she gets to her feet aurns ihe house. God damn it. Why did this have to e noere having such a nice evening.

  Relutly I ahe call. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I hear my ex-girlfriend’s voice, low and somber. “How you doing?”

  “Never better.”

  “I bet.” She says, uandably taking my ho answer as sarcasm.

  “No, I’m serious.” I say. “I have never felt better, Bir.” The silehat followed brought me a little glimmer of guilty joy. After the things she had said to me I wasn’t going to begrudge myself a little bit of payback.

  “What?”

  “You breaking up with me was the best thing to ever happen. Thank you.”

  Another delicious pause. “Pff. Yeah right. I’m not sure what you’re pying at but if you think I’m gonna…”

  “Bir.” I interrupt. “I do not care what you do as long as you’re doing it without me.”

  “Elliot?”

  “I’ll swing by the p a week or two for any mail then I’ll be out of your hair food.”

  “But…But…” This versation was not going the way she thought it would. She thought I’d be grovelling by now. As if I would ever grovel to a skinny, immature bitch like her! “Elliot…”

  “Bir.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You deserved better. And so did I.” I say. “I hope you find the man of your dreams.” I wait a beat just to savor the stunned silence before finishing up. “Don’t call me anymore. I’ve got nothing more to say.” As I hear her stammering oher end of the line I hang up. Ohhhh, did that feel good! With a long breath I slowly nod as I stare down at my phone. “Yep.” I turn off and pocket my phone and stand up feeling a hundred and six pounds lighter. “Hahhhh!”

  Baside I fiher setting the table while doing her level best not to grin. She’d heard every word but retending she hadn’t. “That was quick. Everything okay?”

  “Almost perfect.”

  “Yetting back together?” She asks, as if she didn’t know.

  “No, ma’am.” I chuckle. “That bridge is ashes. No going baow.”

  “Mm.” Turning to me she says. “She wasn’t any good for you, Elliot.”

  “I know.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ll find a girl who really appreciate you and love you for who you are.”

  “I know.” I say. “But it’s still o hear.”

  “What are friends for?” Her smile breaks through. “Help me set the table?”

  “Absolutely!”