His smile slowly spreads over his lips. “Water is good.”

“Great choice,” I answer as I fill up a glass for him. “Now, as for a snack, I do have more variety in that arena.” I open my snack cabinet, and chip bags and cookie boxes come tumbling out. “You see, so many choices they just fall at your feet. So what would you like? We have cookies and chips and these okay-tasting vegetable crackers, and some Gushers, because I love a juicy squirt in my mouth, as well as these yogurt melt things made for babies, but Nichole oddly likes them. Oh!” I reach into the cabinet and pull out a bag. “And pretzels.”

“Pretzels, babe. Pretzels all day, every day.”

Babe.

Do not fangirl over the sound of him saying that.

DO. NOT!

I swallow back the surprising giddy behavior and ask, “Uh, do you want peanut butter to dip them in?”

“Do you want peanut butter to dip them in?”

“Obviously.” I grab the peanut butter and scoop a large amount into a bowl and deposit it in front of Ryot as well as the pretzels.

Together, we each grab a pretzel and dip it in the peanut butter.

“Wow, okay, that shit is good.” He grabs another pretzel and dips it. “Really fucking good.”

“You can thank me with jars of peanut butter.”

“On it.” He turns toward me and says, “Okay, what kind of rock painting are we doing?”

I hand him a flat river rock the size of my palm. “I like to paint rocks to drop off at the Children’s Hospital. They use them to decorate the plants around the hospital, as well as in the gardens and playground. They’re supposed to bring color and joy, a reminder that the future is bright.”

He studies me for a moment and asks, “Really? You’re painting rocks for the Children’s Hospital?”

“Yup. Keeps me busy, makes me feel like I’m doing something, and allows me to be creative.”

“Are you a creative person at heart?”

I nod. “Always have been. Not much of an artist, but I’m great with colors. I have an eye for design, and I like keeping my hands busy with different crafts and projects.”

“Like what?” he asks as he picks up a paintbrush and dips it into some orange paint that I have on a paper plate.

“Well, you see our coffee table?” He glances over his shoulder into the living room. “I made that.”

“Really?” he asks, seeming impressed. “It looks expensive, like you got it from a fancy store.”

“It’s a Pottery Barn dupe. What should have cost me nine hundred dollars only cost me sixty-three dollars and thirty-three cents.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

“You know how to say all the right things, Bisley.”

“It’s the truth. You impress me.”

“Not sure how. It’s not like I have the second-best batting time in the professional leagues.”

He chuckles. “Second-best batting average in the Majors, and everyone is impressive in their own way.”