Was I losing my mind or what?
Say what you will, but I felt better.Somuch better, as if my chest were finally opening up and my brow unfurrowing. So great, in fact, that I wanted to cook, so I went downstairs and flipped through cookbooks, which is my favorite thing to do on earth.
As I reached to pick up a second book, Rory called. “I’m so sorry about earlier. You were so sweet to bring me tacos. I can’t wait to eat them for breakfast.”
“Seriously, darling, it hasn’t crossed my mind since. No big deal.” I didn’t care anymore, though saying it hadn’t crossed my mind was a stretch. I added, “I was just trying to brighten your day.”
“You did that,” he said. “And it’s great for everyone in City Hall to see how much you care.”
I bit my tongue. Couldn’t he leave politics out of it for once? Was our entire life about public image?
He trucked on. “Still, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. Why don’t we do something special tonight? We could go out. Or I could bring home a great bottle of wine, and we could listen to music. Jasper is gone, so we could have a romantic evening—just the two of us. If you feel like cooking, I’m all in. Or I could bring something home. We can do delivery. I don’t mean to ask you on a date and then beg you to cook.”
“I don’t mind cooking.” Under duress, I might admit a bigbright smile lifted my face. He had not asked me on such a date in eons. I said, “I’d love to cook. Is there anything you’re dying for?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” After a pause, he said, “Italian? Your Bolognese?”
My mouth watered. “You’re on. I think I have everything. You want homemade pasta?”
“Only if you feel like it.”
“Anything for you,” I whispered with a twinge of sexuality layered in.
“I can hardly wait. I’ll leave as soon as possible.”
Oh, my gosh, the day shimmered with love and possibility. I ran around the kitchen pulling out ingredients. If he wanted a date, I would give him a date he’d never forget. As I told you, dear doubter of me, I wasn’t far from waking him up from his dream. Sometimes unorthodox solutions are the best kind.
When you’ve been cooking as long as I have, you know that timing is everything. So before I did anything else, I raised my sauce to a simmer on the stove. Then I flew up the stairs and picked through my underwear drawer. Only the finest and sexiest for the mayor of Burlington tonight. Yes, I thought, if he wanted a date, I’d be ready to give him one he’d never forget.
Thankfully, I remembered to replace his tainted toothbrush with a new one from under the sink before I returned to the kitchen.
I anticipated a kiss tonight. And more.
7
I COOK HIM DINNER
By the time Rory walked through the door, the mouthwatering aroma of basil, tomatoes, and oregano wafted through our sparkling-clean house. If I do say so myself, I looked stunning in my rather revealing black dress with spaghetti straps. The cut was so low my boobs might as well have been hanging out. My back was exposed, and my dress barely covered my bottom. I don’t even know why I’d bought this thing, but it felt apropos for tonight. You know, spaghetti straps and spaghetti. I hoped Rory would make the correlation, and his hunger wouldn’t stop with a clean plate, if you know what I mean. Dessert, love?
One thing I’d learned the hard way—scratch that—the easy way, was that when you get a new body, you need new clothes. You think I’d gone crazy at Williams-Sonoma? Let me tell you what. Not only were every employee at Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus and I on a first-name basis, but I even knew the names of the women who worked in the parking garage. To be on the safe side, I’d packed up all my “fat” clothes and stored them in the garage, just in case I ever fell apart. For now, in my bedroom, therewasn’t a trace of my old body. It was the new, slender Margot all the way, ready to give him the tastiest dessert he ever could have imagined.
My loving husband walked into the house and did the exact opposite of what he usually did. Typically, he walked through the door, muttered a “hello,” and went straight to his office to plug in and finish the day. A few more phone calls, emails, and articles. I, by then, being the dutiful housewife, would have sorted the mail and left his stack on his desk. Only after he’d finished with all of the above would he come find me.
To my delight, not today! I heard his bag drop at the side door, and he waltzed into the kitchen, gave the tail-wagging Philippe some love, then stood to take me in.
His mouth fell agape. “Look at you! Wow! They broke the mold with you, didn’t they? ”
I beamed. “Your workday ends now, mister.”
He gave a nearly imperceptible wink and kissed me on the mouth. “What work?”
I couldn’t believe it.
“What’s gotten into you?” I whispered, fingering his collar, taking in his scent.
“You have. Look at you. Don’t make me wait until after dessert. I need you.”
The dress was working!
