Page 36 of Tastes Like Summer

I nod wordlessly, giving in.

Michael smiles and shuts the trunk door. “See you at five-thirty. We can start cooking then.”

“Oh my god,” Rosie laughs on the other end of the line. “Oh my god.”

“You know, this isn’t helping,” I whisper over the phone, hoping the girls can’t overhear my conversation from the living room.

“I’m sorry, but how would I not find this hilarious? Between the girls roasting you and you ending up in this situation in general… I mean, I told you, didn’t I?”

“You told me to befriend him. You didn’t say this would happen.”

“And what is ‘this,’ exactly? Because all I’m hearing is he’s coming over for an innocent cooking lesson as a thank you. Right?” But the suppressed giggle in Rosie’s voice is obvious, and I want to murder her for it. “Unless there’s something more you want to tell me…”

“I know you know the cooking lesson is not why I’m freaked,” I whisper through gritted teeth. “I-I… his friends said he had a crush on me. Or that they thought he had a crush on me. Now, unless Liza and Danielle were saying that just to mess with me⁠—”

“They’d never do that,” Rosie assures me.

“Fine, whatever. Then he’s either just a super duper nice guy, or maybe they’re right, and he does have a crush on me.”

“You gotta stop saying crush; it’s giving me the ick. We aren’t in grade school.”

“Danielle and Liza started it!”

“Well, let’s end it, because gross.”

I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose as I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration.

“Would it be so bad if he did, though? Like you, I mean?” she asks.

“Yes!” I sigh in exasperation.

“Why? If you like the guy⁠—”

“I don’t know if I like the guy.”

Sure, I find him attractive. With his Scott Eastwood good looks, who wouldn’t? And, despite our initial interactions, Michael turned out to be a considerate, sweet man—something I haven’t seen in a long time. His actions and our conversations during the Fourth of July have led me to believe that Michael is more than an okay guy I misjudged when we first met. He’s actually an incredible man I consider myself lucky to know. And the fact that he’s offered to come to my house and cook for my family as a thank you… Well, it speaks volumes. The men in my life haven’t historically ever acted that way. Rodrigo was an entitled ass who expected everything to be done for him without even a whisper of a thank you. And while I love my father and respect him, he still lives under an old school, machismo mentality: women raise the family and are in charge of the home; men work and bring home the tocineta.

So, yeah. You could say that Michael has been a breath of fresh air.

“You like him—you know you do—or you wouldn’t be acting this way. Even if it’s just on some level, you like him as more than the dad to your daughters’ friend. So why would it be so bad to just… kinda see where it goes?”

“Because,” I start. “Because I’m not even sure how much I like him. Because I live about five thousand miles away from here. Because, even though my marriage has been over for years, I only just now got divorced and have to figure my life out. Because I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

Rosie snorts. “Sis, you are out of your mind. You’re not one to get worked up, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get under your skin quite like this.”

“Stop,” I beg.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you’re serious, which is the worst part.” Rosie scoffs, but I keep us on track: “Can we get back to the reason I called you, though? I need some advice on how to handle this. How to control whatever the heck is going on here.”

“Okay, we also need to put a moratorium on ‘heck’—it’s okay to curse sometimes; your girls aren’t even around. Second of all, you’re overthinking things. Just go with the flow. He clearly has a thing for you, and a little flirting might be the best thing for you and your self-confidence right now. Just lighten up. You’re getting adult company for once and what sounds like a delicious free meal from a gorgeous man. I don’t know what the hell you have to complain about, girl.”

“I think you’re missing the point.” I sigh.

“Maybe. But I think you are, too.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my forehead.