He paused, turning to face her—wide-eyed. “For Bianca? Okay.”
“A lot has happened since we last spoke,” Remi said. “I found her in the hospital. The cancer’s back.”
“Wow, I didn’t know there was a first round of cancer.”
“Yes. This is her second bout. And now it has spread. The doctors are just managing the pain at this point.”
Leo’s face softened. “I see.”
“Don’t judge me.”
He shook his head gently. “I would never judge you, Remi. I think you’re incredible. And Bianca? She’s lucky to have a friend like you—a real one. Most people wouldn’t do what you’re doing. Choosing friendship over pride.”
“Thank you for that,” she whispered. “Because lately I’ve felt like the stupidest person on earth.”
“On the contrary,” he said, pulling a skillet from the cabinet. “You don’t even know what a rare jewel you are.”
He caught her eyes as he set the pan on the stove, started the fire beneath it. His eyes lingered on her for moment, steady as he poured the oil into the pan and got to work.
Remi rolled up her sleeves and joined him at the counter, pulling out a cutting board and knife. “I’ll slice. You season.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leo washed the tomatoes in the sink, then handed them to her one by one as he dried them with a paper towel. She worked quietly, slicing each one into thick rounds.
“Cornmeal’s in the second cabinet,” she said, nodding in its direction.
Leo found it easily and poured some into a shallow dish, then added salt and other seasoning. “Got any cayenne pepper?”
“You know I do.” She reached for the spice rack and tossed him the small bottle. “Not too spicy, though.”
He chuckled. “I got you.”
As he prepped the cornmeal, she beat an egg in a bowl beside him, then leaned back and watched him work. His movements were rhythmic and calm. They cooked together, Leo dipping and dredging tomatoes, Remi dropping them into the hot skillet. The oil sizzled as the tomatoes browned. The scent of vibrant seasonings filled the kitchen.
“This takes me back,” she said.
Leo looked over. “To what?”
“Louisiana. My grandmother Lorraine’s house. She used to fry green tomatoes in the summertime. She, too, had a thriving garden. I’d sit at the table and watch her. Music on. Big glass of lavender tea.”
“What music would she play?”
“She loved Dinah Washington. She liked Ella too.” Remi’s eyes were dreamy, like nostalgia was resting behind them.
Leo grabbed his phone, scrolled quickly, and soon Dinah Washington’s sultry voice filled the kitchen.
Remi closed her eyes for a moment. “Yep, that’s it.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, flipping tomatoes as they browned. She glanced up at him—took in the sight of theman who stood in her kitchen, frying green tomatoes. They talked and laughed.
“You always come through right on time,” she said softly.
Leo looked at her, then reached for a plate from the shelf, lined it with paper towels. “I’m glad I could be here. You heal me too,” he said softly.
She smiled up at him and breathed in his scent. “I’m glad,” she whispered.
He leaned down—slow, hesitant, his tall frame towering over her. Their lips met in a kiss, so gentle it felt as if they had kissed before. She closed her eyes. Rational thought told her to pull away, but she didn’t—couldn’t. His kiss didn’t feel like temptation or wrong. It felt like comfort and stillness.
When he pulled away, his voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Rem. I had no right—”