They eat dinner

Dinner was casual as it always was. A simple affair at the little dining table she had. It was the kind of low-stakes meal that didn’t invite anything formal. Natalie had readjusted her hair into a loose clip, a few strands still refusing to be contained and falling forward as she forked roasted vegetables into her mouth between sips of wine. Aiden sat across from her, leaning on one elbow, still in the same t-shirt from earlier, but with a new energy that buzzed just beneath the surface.

“You’re a really good cook,” he said, gesturing with his fork. “Real food from scratch. This is, like... gourmet.”

She smirked. “Roasting vegetables doesn’t count as gourmet. It’s called cleaning out the fridge.”

“Still tastes better than anything I’ve made. Ever.”

“You’re welcome.”

He grinned, chewing for a second, then set his fork down and cleared his throat before looking at her like it wasn’t a big deal. “Hey, so... is it cool if I have people over sometimes?”

Natalie didn’t immediately react. She was halfway into a sip of wine, and it gave her a second to stall.

He kept going, trying for nonchalant. “Not like a rager or anything. Just… you know… Someone. Occasionally.”

She lowered her glass slowly, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You mean besides the blonde who left her glass in my sink, that I had to wash the lipstick off of?”

Aiden froze, lips parting in a brief moment, unsure of how to respond, then closed them again with a tight, sheepish smile. “Okay, fair.” That explained why he couldn’t find the glass when he woke up.

Natalie said nothing else at first, nudging a stray carrot across her plate. Inside, her thoughts moved faster than her hand.

Too late to ask now, isn’t it?

She pushed the thought down and gave a quiet, neutral nod. “Sure. Just give me a heads-up next time.”

Aiden relaxed just a bit but didn’t stop watching her. “Thanks.” After a second, he added, “And sorry. It wasn’t exactly planned, but I could’ve texted at least.”

The silence stretched, but not in the fun, flirty way from earlier. More like a breath held between thoughts. She busied herself with her plate again. He scraped at his, the clink of fork against ceramic louder than either of them wanted to acknowledge with only the speaker now working to drown out the sound.

She appreciated him saying sorry though, and offering a solution for the future. She gave a short little shrug. “I mean, you’re not exactly a church mouse, you know.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The walls,” she said, looking at him over the rim of her glass. “Thin, remember?” she said throwing his words back at him.

He laughed light and easy feeling some of the tension lift again. “Right. Forgot I was basically broadcasting that I was shooting porn,” he said between chews.

“Like a little horny radio station.” She smirked. “Just don’t make a neighbor file a noise complaint, please.”

“Only if you don’t beat me to it,” he shot back.

That earned him a small laugh, and the tension softened a little more. But neither of them clarified anything. Not about the last time, or the next. Just two people pretending they hadn’t both spent the last month or so hearing far more than they were supposed to.

Aiden reached for the bottle, raising his eyebrows in question, and Natalie answered with a silent nod before standing and walking toward the cabinet.

“If you’re going to drink my wine, you’re not ruining it by putting it in your water glass,” she said, setting a proper stemmed one in front of him with mock sternness.

He grinned. “Didn’t realize I was about to get another lesson.”

“You were,” she said, pouring him a generous splash. “You just saved yourself a scolding by asking though.”

He lifted the glass with a little swirl, having no idea why he was supposed to do it, but the intention was sincere. “To adulting,” he said tilting the glass to her.

“God help us,” she muttered, clinking hers against his.

For a moment, the kitchen was quiet except for the faint clatter of utensils as they went back to their plates and one song faded out, before the next built up. The clink of silverware, a sip of wine. The quiet sort of domesticity that felt... eerily familiar. Like the kind of evening she'd had a thousand times before only without the weight of the marital problems. Without the tension that used to sit between her and someone who no longer looked at her the same way. This didn’t feel like that. It just felt relaxed and fun.

Aiden glanced up after a beat, watching her as she reached for the pepper grinder.

“I’m serious, though, about what I said about you being a really good cook. Hell, you cook, you keep good wine in the house, you don’t freak out when people talk about sex over dinner... you’re kind of killing it.”

Natalie arched a brow. “That your way of buttering me up again?”

“Maybe,” he said, then added, looking at his plate, “But also, like, it’s true.”

She gave a modest shrug and reached for her glass again, but her smile curved despite herself. “It’s just called being in your thirties.”

Aiden leaned back in his chair, watching her over the rim of his own wine glass. “So that’s what I have to look forward to? Functional kitchenware and emotional control?”

Natalie gave a snort. “Don’t get carried away. Emotional control is highly overrated. And easily lost”

He laughed softly, tapping a finger against the side of his glass. “You get impressively in control when you're in hostess mode.”

“I prefer emotionally well-regulated,” she replied.

“Same thing,” he smirked

“Going back to your lesson about the wine, your hand will warm it. Use the stem,” she finished by holding up her own glass in demonstration.

He simply smiled before choosing to set the glass down instead. They kept eating, kept drinking, albeit a little slower now. He poured a second glass without comment from her, or asking permission.

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