Page 14 of Tastes Like Summer

Her hips sway as she opens the fridge, pulling out a chicken breast, carrots, and cucumber. I wait patiently to see if she pulls something else from the fridge but… that’s it.

That’s it? That’s all she’s going to make?

“I can help, if you’d like. You know I’m a chef.” I plop onto one of the bar stools.

“Thanks for the offer, but Emiliana has Type 1 diabetes. Her diet is very specific.”

Diana pulls out a paring knife—a paring knife!—from a drawer and uses it to chop the cucumber into cubes. The way she holds the cucumber, especially with how dull the knife looks, gives me anxiety. One slip of the hand and it’s bye-bye to her fingers. I would never let a knife in my kitchen get to that point.

I hesitate for a moment, consider letting it go. But… “Right, but I’m sure that⁠—”

She sighs deeply, drops the knife on the board, and lets her head hang between her shoulders. Diana doesn’t look at me when she begs, “Please don’t. I know you’re trying to help in your own way, but it’s really fine. She can’t have anything too crazy to eat. So grilled chicken, steamed veggies, and salad it is. I’ll throw in a very small amount of some form of carbs in there because she takes a long lasting form of insulin before bed, but that’s it. She can’t eat much of anything else.”

I press my lips together because I know she isn’t exactly right. It’s true, Emiliana will forever face a lifetime of having to monitor what she eats, how she eats, and her physical activity all because her pancreas decided to stop producing insulin one day. But it doesn’t have to be all dry chicken breast and tasteless vegetables. I know food. I am 100% certain that Emiliana could be eating something with more… flavor.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, sighing again. “It’s just… It’s been difficult adjusting. Learning all the do’s and don’t’s. And I need to do this my way. At least as we start getting our footing on this thing. It’s not an easy thing to manage. I mean, we had only just gotten used to me administering her insulin directly, and now I’m having to learn to trust a pump. It’s hard.”

“I don’t mean to overstep. All I’m saying is—” I run my fingers through my hair. “I went to culinary school. And while I only took a basic compulsory nutrition course, it did teach me a little about the kinds of foods she should and shouldn’t be eating, and how to balance them. More than that, my roommate our first year had T1D, and he was able to eat mostly anything he wanted. I feel like I could help you find some balance. I mean, I fucking live to eat. Not the other way around. And I still manage to look this fit.” I try for humor, but the lightness doesn’t land. Nothing ever will with her, apparently.

“Yes, but your roommate had it under control. Emi and I are still learning. And as for you, you probably work out every day. Drink protein shakes three times a day.” She says, a teasing smile on her face that does something to me.

I mock-shudder. “No to the protein shakes. Gross. But I do work out a fair bit, it’s true. A couple of times a week at the gym. With how much I eat, I’d be the Pillsbury Dough Boy if I didn’t.” Diana snorts. I feel a sense of accomplishment from having made her laugh, even if it was just barely. “But I’ve gained weight since becoming a dad.” I pat my stomach proudly.

She shrugs slightly, eyes on the cucumber, hands a bit unsteady. It is literally painful to have to watch this. “It’s normal to gain some weight over the years. Even men’s metabolisms slow down over the span of a decade.”

“Oh,” I say, sitting up in my seat. “No, I mean—I guess you don’t know. Why would you?”

“What do you mean?” She stops chopping, looks curiously up at me.

“Well, I’m a new parent. Rachel and I… It’s new.”

“Oh.” Diana’s lips part, eyes locked with mine. Damn, she’s got beautiful lips. “Is that why she calls you Michael, then?”

I swallow once. “I—Yeah. That’s why. She’s been with me for a year, but we’re… We’re still adapting. It’s just Rachel and me. And every time I feel like we’re making progress, something happens and just…” I release a breath, not realizing how tense I’d been feeling. “Anyway. It… It hasn’t been easy. It’s been amazing,” I correct quickly when her expression shifts just a bit, “but it hasn’t been easy.”

Diana’s stance relaxes and her features grow softer. Something resembling hope starts to build inside me. Could it be that me and the shrew have finally found some common fucking ground?

“I’m not new to parenthood, but definitely new to single parenthood, and… Yeah, it’s been crazy. I get it. I guess you could say that’s why I’ve been a bit tense about things.”

I snort, feeling a wide smile spread across my face. “A bit?”

She rolls her eyes at me with a soft laugh. “Fine. A lot.” Her eyes are apologetic when she meets my gaze. “And I guess I can now see why what I said the other night bothered you so much. You’re learning how to be a parent. Everything must feel impossible.”

Before she can go back to chopping the damn cucumber, I pull the cutting board away from her and take her pathetic paring knife from her hand.

“Hey! I was⁠—”

I cut her off. “You’re going to end up chopping your fingers off. This knife is too dull. And yes, sometimes I barely recognize myself. Sometimes I feel so lost I pray someone invents Google Maps for life or something. But Rachel’s amazing. I don’t regret becoming her dad.”

She leans against the counter, small smile on her face as she keeps her gaze locked on my quick-moving hand. In no time, I’m done cubing the damn cucumber, despite the sad excuse for a blade.

“What else you need me to chop?”

With a laugh, she pushes three carrots toward me, and I get back to work, feeling something unwind between the two of us.

“I get what you mean, though. About feeling a little lost,” she adds quietly.

I look up from my work to catch her staring out the kitchen window, swallowing hard once.