"MORE TOSSING."
Twenty minutes later, footsteps on the garage stairs. Devin appears in the doorway, flushed, a little sweaty, wearing an apron that says KISS THE COOK in Robin's handwriting and holding a plate of pasta like it's a newborn.
"I made this," he says.
"I heard."
"Jason only yelled at me twice."
"That's good. He yelled at Vaughn six times when Vaughn tried to make soup."
"Robin tried to add lemon zest to everything."
"That's Robin's love language. Unwanted citrus."
He sets the plate in front of me. Cacio e pepe. Simple, steaming, the cheese and pepper coating each strand. It looks right. It looks like something Jason would approve of, which is the highest bar there is.
I take a bite.
It's good. Not Jason-good. Jason is operating on a different plane of culinary existence. But genuinely, honestlygood. The pasta is cooked correctly. The sauce clings instead of pools. The pepper has bite. The garlic is subtle.
"Well?" Devin asks. He's trying to look casual but his hands are clasped in front of him and he's holding his breath.
"It's really good, Dev."
"Really?"
"Really. The pepper's perfect. Did Jason help with the ratio?"
"Jason gave me an exact gram measurement. Then Robin told me to ignore it and add more. I went with Jason's number."
"Smart."
He sits on the stool next to me and watches me eat. The garage is quiet. Just us, the bikes, the fluorescent lights buzzing. The plate is warm on my knee. His shoulder is warm against mine.
"Jason told me something," Devin says, quieter now.
"Yeah?"
"About food. About how it's — he said cooking for someone is the most intimate thing you can do with your clothes on."
"That sounds like Jason."
"He said the first time he cooked for Ash, really cooked, not just threw something together, he was more nervous than he'd been about anything. Because you can hide in a lot of ways but you can't hide in food. The food tells the truth about how you feel."
"What does the cacio e pepe say?"
Devin looks at the plate. Then at me. "That I don't know what I'm doing but I wanted to try. For you."
"That's a pretty good message."
"Jason also said —" He stops. Starts again. "He said the first meal is the important one. Not because it's good. Because it's brave. He said learning to cook for someone means being willing to fail at something while they watch."
"Jason's wise."
"Jason is terrifying. He has opinions about everything."
I'm laughing. Actually laughing, in the garage, with cacio e pepe on my knee and my boyfriend's shoulder against mine and the sound of the pride moving around us. Robin's voice, Jason's clatter, Ash's murmur, Vaughn's boots, Knox's silence that fills whatever room he's in.
