Zeke just smiled when I asked him what it was, shaking a small skillet with sautéed mushrooms and onions inside. I set the table and paused, trying to rationalize with the quickly approaching feelings of guilt that everything happening was okay. I was okay. Spenser’s words replayed in my head. Matt wouldn’t want me to be miserable and alone the rest of my life. He’d made his choice wanting anything but that.

“I’ll get it,” Zeke said, kneeling next to me with a brush and dust pan. He swept up the broken glass from the plate that had fallen from my hand.

“Oh, shit,” I said, feeling confused. I hadn’t felt the plate fall out of my hands or heard it break. I went to get another plate, thanking Zeke as he dumped the white shards in the trash can.

“You’re probably just hungry. It’ll be finished in five minutes, I swear,” he said.

I carried two beers and two glasses of ice water to the table, sitting as Zeke lowered the glass dish to the trivet in the center. Bubbling cheese surrounded two fat chicken breasts covered in green salsa verde. A second dish was full of Mexican rice.

“I put the mushrooms on the side in case you didn’t like them.”

“Who doesn’t like mushrooms?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Some people are strangely offended by them.”

I forked a chicken breast onto the bed of rice I’d already fashioned on my plate, covering it all in sautéed mushrooms and onion. I was salivating, and when I cut the chicken and placed it in my mouth, I moaned. Yes. Naomi backward.

“Stuffed baked chicken? Are you serious?”

“It’s a basic quick dish, but a good one,” he said after he swallowed.

“What’s in it?”

“Cheese, more cheese, and a little cream cheese; mozzarella cheese, salsa verde and more cheese.”

“Oh my god, I love cheese. Cheese is why I could never go vegan.”

“I can make a vegetarian version of this that is pretty similar.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“My sister Kara is a vegetarian, so I try to come up with a few dishes when we do family things. I’ve thought about it. I just assumed since you had thawed chicken in the fridge, it was a safe bet you weren’t.”

“Guilty,” I said. “That was sweet of you, though. To think of your sister.”

He shrugged. “She started college last year. She hated her roommate. There was a mean best friend and a crazy boyfriend in the mix. I sent her a lot of dishes. I like to eat my feelings, so I guess I assume everyone does.” He chuckled.

“Do we need to take care of the roommate?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said with an appreciative smile and full cheeks. “She moved in with the crazy boyfriend.”

“I’m sure that went well.”