“I can’t ask you to buy something when I’m the one who’s going to eat it,” Erin says with a big, contagious smile.
“As long as it’s mostly broccoli and cauliflower, you can have it all,” I joke. They’re Mom’s favorite. Dunno why.
“Haha. Nope. I’m not a making broccoli and cauliflower pie.”
“That sounds just…disgusting.” Anything she bakes is going to be awful, but even more so when the ingredients are cruciferous abominations.
“I know.” She laughs, taking out stuff from the bags and putting it away, leaving a few things on the counter. “Don’t worry. I’m making something else.”
Wait, did she just pull out onions? And Brussels sprouts? “You sure that’s how you want to spend your Saturday?” I ask, doing my best not to sound desperate. Women get suspicious when men start sounding desperate. “Maybe you want to do something else?”
“Like what?”
“Watching standup comedy on Netflix together?” I’ve seen all of them, but I don’t mind watching them again. And acting like all the jokes are totally new.
Her lips purse.
“Or we could go shopping.” That’d be better than whatever she’s planning to make. Safer too, since we’ll be far from the kitchen and oven. What a fantastic idea.
She shakes her head with a rueful smile. “I know how much you hate shopping. You don’t have to sacrifice your Saturday for me like that.”
“It would not be a sacrifice.” I raise three fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”
“You weren’t a scout, were you?”
“Yes. Always prepared.” But there is no preparation for Erin’s cooking.
She pats my shoulder. “I promise I’m not going to spend my entire weekend doing more training. It’s just good to keep myself busy, you know? And I want to get through those baking videos you bought me.”
Oh, fuck. I should’ve known they’d come back to haunt me. It seemed like a great idea to gift her a set on my birthday. Contrary to what she thinks, they were really gifts for me…except if her chocolate lava cake was any indication, I shouldn’t have bothered. Wonder if they come with a money-back guarantee…
“You really don’t have to,” I say, mustering every ounce of earnestness I own. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you return those videos and exchange them for something else?”
Her eyebrows pinch together, creating vertical lines between them. “Like what?”
I grasp for something that won’t hurt too much. “Music appreciation?”
She laughs. “I already appreciate music. Besides, it’ll be fun. According to the recipe, it won’t take that long, and we can share afterward.”
My eyebrows almost hit my hairline. “Share…?”
She holds up an admonishing finger. “I haven’t forgotten the way you hoarded the chocolate lava cake I made you.”
“Hahaha. Oh yes. Right. The cake.” The one I spared her from and discreetly threw away before leaving the office.
She regards me with a smile. “It’s okay. I don’t hold it against you. I know how much you love dessert.”
“I do.” My gaze falls on a bunch of junk mailers on the counter. The top one is promoting a new bakery, and I grasp it like it’s a sign from the universe. “Hey, why don’t we check out Bobbi’s Sweet Things? Look. It’s supposed to be really good.” At least nothing there is poisonous or painful.
“Sure. We can do that later today if you’re still in the mood.”
All right. I’m a man enough to accept that there’s no way for me to change her mind. “What are you going to make?” Don’t say onion cake. Don’t say onion cake. My gaze falls on the Brussels sprouts. Or Brussels sprout pie.
“Peach cobbler. It looked really good in the screenshot. I’ve never made one before, but according to the description, it’s going to create a ‘sweet, juicy dessert full of succulent fruit that bursts with flavor.’” She beams at me.
But it only strikes terror in my heart.
“Doesn’t that sound just divine?” she asks.