“No, but I can simply imagine how aggravating it would be to stand by and watch this happen. Bending over to put a roast in the oven distracts the meal recipient from actually focusing on the meal to be had.”

I erupt in laughter and don’t care that everyone turns our way. “Such a travesty, when I’m sure he ends up enjoying or eating a whole different type of meal entirely.”

“It’s a travesty that should absolutely not be done.”

I laugh as we stare at each other, flirting with our eyes, before turning back to our paintings. My painting, I might add, that will confuse anyone in the room but will make Gunner laugh.

Within what feels like seconds the bell rings again, and the chatter quiets as Mimi takes her “stage” again. “Okay, next question. The first time you met the person sitting across from you, what one thing attracted you to them?”

I turn from looking at Mimi to Gunner and wish I could frame the look he’s giving me forever. There’s quiet intensity laced with amused adoration, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more seen in my life.

“That’s easy,” he says. “Your confidence. The sound of your laugh. The way you gave it right back to me . . . and then I got to know you, and it was all of those things and then some.”

“Thank you.” I’m not one hundred percent certain why tears burn my eyes, but I pretend they’re not there and smile softly at him. “For me it was your kindness, your smile, your biceps”—I shrug unapologetically—” and the way you looked at me.”

“How did I look at you?” he asks.

“Like I was the only woman in the room.”

His smile softens as does his expression, before he gives a shy lift of his shoulders and turns back to his easel.

I stare at my canvas for a minute but swear I don’t see a single brushstroke I’ve made. I’m too busy thinking of Gunner and how in this short amount of time he’s become so important to me.

. . . and then I got to know you, and it was all of those things and then some. And part of that has to do with his ability to win me over with his kindness. Genuineness.

Right after that comes my typical refrain—the one that says I’m too busy for him, for whatever this is—but this time I push it away. Maybe Kelly is right. Maybe I need to step back from the stress and endless lists and simply enjoy myself for a bit.

Enjoy Gunner.

“I’m just warning you,” I say from behind my canvas, “this is absolutely horrible.”

“And I think you’re too hard on yourself, but I’m guessing that’s a normal thing for you.”

“Whatever.”