“WHAT ARE YOU guys making?” Matthew climbed onto the stool next to the island and studied the stuff spread out on the counter, wrinkling up his little face as he did so. He leaned in closer to the garlic and plugged his nose. “Ew! It smells gross!”
“You’re gonna like it, I promise,” Michelle said as she lifted him off the stool, patting his butt as he ran away. She turned to me. “He’s gonna like it, right?”
“Hey,” I said, holding my hands up, “you made the promise, not me.”
“The odds are in our favor, though, right? So far we’ve made the lasagna, tilapia, and rosemary chicken. He’s loved all of those. Oh! And burgers that were so good they’ve ruined me for all other burgers for the rest of eternity.”
“The rest of eternity, huh? That’s pretty big.”
“Yep.” She nodded. “You’re going to have to supply me with burgers at least once a month for the rest of my life, okay?”
I’m totally cool with that.
When I didn’t answer, she grinned and nudged me with her sharp little elbow right in the ribs. “All right, what next?”
“Now you’re gonna take that bowl with all the seasonings in it and rub your meat.” I tried my hardest not to laugh.
Michelle tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips together.
“What?” I defended. “I swear I’m not being dirty. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Fine.” She picked up a small handful of the seasoning and dropped it on top of the pork tenderloin, massaging it in with her hands.
I walked up behind her and leaned in close above her shoulder. “Oh yeah, that’s it. Rub it real good. Get it all the way in there,” I growled as dirty as I could.
She laughed and elbowed me again. “Knock it off.”
“I can’t help myself. When you rub the pork like that, it really gets my spices flowing.” I danced in a circle around the island.
She pretended to ignore me as she bit her lip and concentrated on what she was doing, but I could tell by the pink in her cheeks I was getting under her skin.
“Okay. Now you’re gonna flip it over and rub it again. Make sure you really get in there and massage that meat. Tell it you love it. Show it.”
Her blue eyes flashed up to me before she rolled them toward the ceiling. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?”
I tilted my head left and right. “So I’ve been told.”
She finished with the spice rub and held her messy hands up in the air. “Now what?”
“Now smack it.”
She pulled her brows in tight, frowning at me. “Huh?”
“Smack the meat,” I repeated.
Her shoulders slumped and she glared at me, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “I’m not gonna smack this piece of meat.”
“You have to. It helps in the cooking process,” I said as seriously as I could. “It loosens the juices.”
“Oh.” She straightened up and paused, thinking about it. “Okay.”
Turning back toward the stove, she took a deep breath before slapping the pork with her right hand. “Like that?” She glanced back for my approval.
Holding my laugh in at that point was physically painful, but I was determined. “Yep, just like that. Smack it again. Harder.”
She hesitantly raised her right hand and brought it down hard against the tenderloin two more times. By the second time, my gut was ready to explode. I laughed out loud so hard that I startled her.
“You’re such a jerk!” she shrieked playfully, charging at me with her wet, spice-rubbed hands. I caught her wrists and held them away from my face.
“I’m sorry, but you were so adorably naive about the whole thing. I couldn’t help it.”
She wiggled her fingers, trying to get close enough to slather that stuff all over my face, but I wasn’t about to let her. I pushed her back, pinning her between me and the counter, gently moving her hands so that I had them securely behind her back.
“The minute you let me loose, you’re dead.” Her eyes were wild and mischievous.
“What makes you think I’m letting you go anytime soon?”
She pulled and wiggled, desperately trying to break free before she finally gave up and sighed, blowing the pieces of loose hair off her forehead. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”
I leaned in close, breathing onto her cheek. “Oh, I can go all night, baby.”
Redness started at the base of her neck, quickly creeping up to her face as she swallowed hard.
“Give up yet?” I asked.
“Fine,” she snapped. “I give up.”
“Now, when I let go, you promise you’re going to go to the sink and wash your hands?”
She stared me straight in the eye and nodded.
“All right, then.” I slowly released her hands and backed away.
She pulled her arms around to the front of her and inspected them. In a flash, she swiped her hand across my face and bolted out of the kitchen.
I covered my eyes with my hands. “Ow! Ow! The spices went in my eyes!” I called out, peeking through my hands to see if she had come back yet.
After a couple more whimpers from me, she peeked her head around the corner cautiously. “Are you serious? Oh shit.” She hurried over and pulled a dish towel out of the drawer, running it under cold water for a second.
I continued to writhe in pain, waiting for her to get closer.
She stood in front of me on her tippy toes, carefully lifting the damn cold cloth to my face, when I reached out and grabbed her around the waist. “Gotcha!”
“Crap!” she shouted, kicking and squirming to try and get out of my grasp. As I stood with a tight grip on her, laughing smugly, her heel connected with my balls. Not a full-on kick but a graze, and any guy will tell you, a graze is a hundred times worse than a straight kick to the junk.
The jolt of her heel made me lose my hold on her waist. Just as she wiggled loose and was about to run, I reached out and spun her, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them against the wall above her head.
“You done yet?” I panted, inches from her face.
Her lips were parted slightly, her chest rising up and down as she stared right into my eyes. I could feel her warm breath on my skin as I searched her face, noticing a tiny scar she had above her lip. I wanted to kiss it. “Not even close,” she said barely above a whisper, arching her eyebrow in challenge. “Someone once told me not to start something I couldn’t finish, so—”
The doorbell rang, startling both of us. In unison, our heads snapped toward the front of the house. Michelle’s neighbor Jodi was standing on the porch, frantically waving at us.
“Damn it,” Michelle mumbled under her breath as she pulled her hands out of my grasp. “Can you let her in while I wash up?”
“Got it.” I sighed, annoyed that I had to let her go.
I opened the door and waved her in. “Come on in. Jodi, right?”
“Thanks.” She sniffed as she walked through the doorway. Her eyes were red and puffy, and a wadded-up tissue was clenched in her hand. Anxiety spread through me. I avoided crying women like the fucking plague. Except for one. When she cried, I ran toward her, not away. “Uh… Michelle’s in here. Follow me.” I turned and started walking, hoping she would just follow so I didn’t have to face her again.
As we got to the kitchen, Michelle was wiping her hands on another towel. She took one look at Jodi and rushed toward her. “What’s wrong?”
Jodi’s lip quivered and she crumpled into Michelle’s open arms. “I’m not getting married,” she wailed.
“What are you talking about?” Michelle asked. “Come here, sit down. Tell me what happened.”
I tried to move out of the way but somehow got caught sitting at the kitchen table with the two of them. Panicking like a trapped animal, my mind raced with possible escape routes. If I went to the living room to watch TV, I would look like a dick, but I didn’t really want to sit there and witness whatever was about to take place.
Got it!
I stood up and leaned in just a bit toward them. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Michelle, I’m gonna work on dinner while you guys chat.”
She looked up at me with guilt in her eyes. “Are you sure? I’m so sorry.”
“No, please. Don’t worry about it. I got this.” I scooted out from behind the table and moved quickly over to the counter. I could still hear them talking, but at least I wasn’t expected to be a willing participant anymore.
“So what’s going on? Your wedding is next week,” Michelle said.
Jodi sniffed and blew her nose like a bullhorn into her tissue. “I don’t even know. We’re sitting around having coffee before work and all of a sudden, I’m in the middle of a meltdown, freaking out about whether or not this marriage is gonna work when the others haven’t. I can’t be divorced three times, Michelle. I just can’t.”
I watched in the reflection of the microwave as Michelle put her hand on Jodi’s shoulder. “Okay, okay. Slow down. One thing at a time. What even brought this on?”
“I have no idea. He said something about wanting to plant lilies in the backyard next summer. I hate lilies.”
“Honey, then all you have to do is tell him you hate lilies.”
“But it’s not that. Shouldn’t he know I hate lilies? Why do I have to tell him? And it’s just lilies this time, but what if next time it’s the kind of car he wants me to buy?” Jodi’s voice was rising in a panic, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I slid the pork into the oven.
“Okay, let me ask you something. Do you love him?”
“Yes,” Jodi answered quickly.
“No,” Michelle continued. “Like really, truly, from the bottom of your soul love him? Can’t picture spending another day without him kind of love?”
Jodi took a small pause this time. “Yes,” she said quietly.
“Then you have nothing to worry about. I was only married once, but here’s what it taught me. We grow up, become adults, and get married. From the moment the ring is on our finger, we have these grand ideas in our heads of how our life is supposed to go forever—how things should end up—but it’s not really up to us, is it? I don’t know who it’s up to, but we just have to go with it. We have to keep riding the waves of life, trying not to get sucked too far out and get lost at sea, ya know?”
At that point, I’d stopped cutting the potatoes and was listening closely.
Michelle had waves.
I had doors.
Maybe we could sit on my door and float on top of those waves together.
“You’re so right.” Jodi sniffed again.
Michelle continued, “If you love him, fight for him, fight for both of you. And plant some damn lilies.”