“But you baked.”
My eyes warm with tears, and I can’t decide if I want to laugh or cry. What I do want to do is show some love that he’s not teasing me for being the worst cook on the planet, which clearly I am.
“Give me this.” I snatch the plate from in front of him. “I don’t know what happened. I followed the recipe exactly!”
We both stand, and he follows me to the kitchen, carrying our wine glasses. I pull out Ma’s hand-written recipe, and we scan it quickly looking for any sign of a culprit.
“I’d be lying if I acted like I knew anything about this stuff…” His voice trails off, and my hands fly to my lips.
Laughter bubbles in my stomach, making my voice almost a shriek. “That was so awful!”
Tears are in my eyes, and Sawyer struggles not to laugh. It only makes the dimple in his cheek more noticeable. Diving forward, I hug my arms around his neck. His arms are around my waist, and I feel him starting to laugh.
He takes a deep breath and puts both hands on my waist, moving me back. “He
re’s what we’ll do. I’ll make grilled cheese, and if you want we can finish the movie?”
“Let’s do it.”
I go to the pantry and take out the bread. He grabs the sliced cheese and a stick of butter from the fridge. Ten minutes later, we’re on the couch again, wine on the end tables, plates of grilled cheese in hand, lights low.
I snuggle into his side, taking a bite of warm and melty grilled cheese. It’s zesty and buttery. “This is really delicious.” I take another bite.
“It’s the only thing I know how to make.” The muscle in his jaw moves attractively as he chews.
I watch him a minute, my insides humming with delight. “It’s a good thing.”
The movie continues as we finish our dinner. I snuggle closer, sliding a hand around his waist. Lots of singing and dancing later, we finish the wine. The movie goes to silhouette… They’re in Paris… And as it concludes, I sit up straight.
“That’s it?” The credits roll, and I blink at the screen.
Sawyer sits forward, exhaling. “It was pretty good.”
My jaw drops, and I look at him.
“What?” He looks from me to the screen. “It was a lot of singing and dancing, but I get it. He was a musician. But he got his club—”
“You liked it?” My eyebrows rise.
He looks around like he’s trying to find the right answer. “I liked the opening part. With the people on the cars. That seemed fun.”
“But the ending.”
“It seemed realistic to me—” He nods like it’s all very logical.
“Who gives a shit about realistic? That is not how it was supposed to end!”
“Supposed to end…”
“I think that was the worst ending of a movie I’ve ever seen in my life! I wish I’d never even started it. I can’t believe I spent two hours, and they did that!”
I’m shouting, and the corner of Sawyer’s mouth twitches. I can see in his eyes he’s trying not to laugh. “I think you’re taking it way too seriously. It’s just a movie—”
“Just a movie I expected to End. Right!”
He covers my arm with his hand, standing and gently lifting me to my feet. “I think you had an extra glass of wine. Let’s walk it off.”
“I am not tipsy. That ending sucked.”