Favorite Blog: MIKES APARTMENT MIKESAPARTMENT.COM was excellent; the best meal I've had in ages. Daniel grilled the salmon and served it with a lemon butter sauce so good I think I moaned out loud. There were little roasted red potatoes with garlic and rosemary, and asparagus brushed with olive oil and grilled alongside the fish. I ate hardily and made no apologies for it. We didn't speak much, but there didn't seem to be much to say.
"I'll clean up," I offered as I worked away at my second glass of pinot noir. The wine had sent a warmth spreading through my body, relaxing me and making me realize just how tired I was.
"No need," Daniel said, pushing our empty plates across the island and settling back onto his stool beside me. "It can wait. The food might rot, but the dishes won't."
I laughed. "How pragmatic."
Daniel shrugged, his solid shoulder brushed against my own. "I love to cook, but I hate to clean up."
"I don't mind the cleaning up," I confessed. "But I'm a lousy cook." I tried to picture just what was in my fridge at home: half a carton of skim milk, some ancient mustard, diet soda, and a sketchily aged chunk of cheddar which was more than likely home to some very alien mould spores.
It was Friday night, I'd gotten a lot accomplished at work that week, I was well fed, and drinking a glass of excellent wine. I was happy. Then the realization hit me with a jolt. Not only was I happy, I was happy sitting beside Daniel. Holy shit.
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