A Deal With De Niro

Chapter 9

The smell of tamarind and pork filled Shannon's small apartment as she stirred the sinigang in her big clay pot - the one her grandma had given her for her twenty-first birthday. She'd spent all afternoon preparing it, making sure the sourness was just right, cutting the vegetables perfectly, marinating the meat for hours like her grandmother had taught her. She'd even gone easy on the chili, just like she'd promised Blaine.

He said he can't handle too much spice, she thought, checking the rice cooker one more time. I hope he likes it. Her grandma always says my sinigang is the best she's ever tasted.

She'd cleaned the entire apartment until it sparkled, rearranged her books so they looked neat on the shelf, and even put up a few of her paintings on the walls, the ones she didn't mind showing people. The sunset over Manila Bay was hanging by the couch, a small painting of sampaguita flowers was in the dining room, and a watercolor of the Pasig River at dawn was in the hallway.

Just as she was setting the table, the doorbell rang. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her simple blue dress, and walked to the door. When she opened it, Blaine was standing there holding a bottle of wine and a small wrapped box.

"Hi," he said, his amber eyes lighting up as he looked at her. He was wearing dark jeans and a navy blue polo shirt tonight - casual, but still impossibly handsome. "I brought wine - white this time, I thought it would go better with sinigang. And... this is for you."

He handed her the wrapped box. Shannon felt a little flutter in her stomach as she took it - no one had given her a gift just because in a long time.

"You didn't have to bring me anything," she said, leading him inside. The apartment immediately felt smaller with him in it - his tall frame filling up the space, making everything feel more... alive.

"I wanted to," he said, looking around the room with interest. "Your place is nice. It feels like someone actually lives here. Not like my empty penthouse."

"Thank you," she said, blushing a little as she set the box on the table. "I like it - it's cozy. Makes me feel at home."

His eyes landed on the painting by the couch. The sunset over Manila Bay. He walked over to look at it, his hand resting lightly on the frame.

"You painted this?" he asked, his voice full of surprise. "It's beautiful, Shannon. Really beautiful."

"Thank you," she said again, feeling her cheeks get warmer. "I painted it last year when I was feeling... overwhelmed. Work was really stressful, and I just needed to get away from everything for a while."

He turned to look at her, his expression soft. "You capture light really well. The way you painted the sky. It looks like it's actually glowing."

Shannon felt her heart skip a beat. No one had ever looked at her paintings like that - not even Marcus, who'd always just said "they're nice" and left it at that. Blaine was actually looking, really looking and seeing what she'd tried to put on paper.

"Let me get the wine glasses," she said quickly, turning away to hide her blush. She poured them both a glass of white wine, then led him to the dining table where the sinigang was waiting.

"Wow," he said, sitting down and inhaling deeply. "That smells incredible. Better than any restaurant sinigang I've ever had."

"Grandma taught me everything I know," she said, serving him a bowl. "She says the secret is to use fresh tamarind, not the powder. And you have to let it simmer slowly. No rushing it."

They started eating, and Shannon watched nervously as Blaine took his first bite. His eyes widened, and he smiled. That real smile that made his dimple show.

"This is amazing," he said, taking another bite. "I told you your grandmother taught you well with pasta, but this? Your grandmother, she's a genius."

Shannon laughed. A real, genuine laugh that made her feel light and happy. "I'll tell her you said that. She'll be so proud. She's always saying I need to cook more often instead of eating takeout."

They ate and talked, just like they had at his penthouse. Blaine told her about a trip he'd taken to Cebu when he was a kid, visiting his mother's family there - how they'd taken him to the beach, taught him how to catch fish with his hands, made him eat durian even though he'd hated it.

Shannon told him about her grandma's garden in Batangas, how she'd spend every summer there as a kid, helping her plant flowers and vegetables, learning how to make jam from mangoes they'd picked themselves.

"This is nice," Blaine said after a while, setting his bowl down and looking at her. "Just... talking. No business, no contracts, no family pressure. Just us."

"It is," she agreed, pouring them both more wine. "I haven't done this in a long time - just relaxed and enjoyed myself."

They moved to the couch after dinner, and Blaine asked to see more of her paintings. She led him to the corner where she kept the ones she hadn't hung up - stacks of watercolors leaning against the wall, each one a little piece of her heart.

"This one's my favorite," she said, pulling out a small painting of a young girl sitting on a bench, holding a stuffed bear. It was a painting of her when she was seven, sitting in her lola's garden the day her father had told her her mother wasn't coming back.

"It's... sad, but beautiful," Blaine said quietly, looking at it carefully. "You can feel how lonely she is, but also how much she's holding on to that bear like it's her only friend."

Shannon felt tears prick at her eyes. He'd seen it - the loneliness she'd tried to hide even from herself.

"That's me," she said softly. "When I was seven. My mother had just died, and my father was never home. That bear - it was the only thing that made me feel safe."

Blaine reached out and took her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers gently. "I'm sorry, Shannon. No kid should have to feel that way."

She squeezed his hand, leaning her head against his shoulder without thinking. He was warm and solid, and being close to him made her feel safe - just like that stuffed bear had when she was little.

They sat like that for a long time, just looking at her paintings and talking in quiet voices. Shannon felt a peace she hadn't felt in years - like all the pieces of her life that had been scattered were finally starting to come together.

Then the doorbell rang.