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“Um...no,” I said. “Not this time. Maybe we should plan on doing another one, though, and we can invite more people, how does that sound?”
“Okay! Can we go look at the garden?”
“Of course.”
We went out into the backyard, and Declan poked around in the garden for a little while, inspecting some of the flowers that I had bought, proclaiming that some had sprouted new blooms.
“I think they’re happy here,” he said.
“That’s good. I’m happy they like the garden we worked so hard on.”
He examined a patch of soil. “I don’t see any of the seeds growing.”
“Not yet. That usually takes a couple of weeks.”
Declan then ran over to his backyard and retrieved a Frisbee, which we played for a while, and then he said he was hungry.
My resolve with Cole was definitely wavering, which was becoming all the more apparent to me the more we hung out. What, exactly, had my plan been? I tried to dredge up the conversation that Declan had with me when he first told me about the bet. I tried to imagine the two of them sitting there, making that fucking ridiculous bet in the first place. Talking about me like I was some sort of conquest, something to be won or lost, not actually even a person. And yeah, there was a little flare of anger, but it was hard to be keep it fanned because I knew that’s not how Cole really was.
“I suppose that means I should get the grill started then,” I said.
Cole grinned. “You need any help?”
“Is it that obvious I’m a complete amateur?”
“Well... I did notice the propane tank isn’t hooked up yet.”
“Okay,” I said, laughing. “You got me. I’ve only ever been to other cookouts; I’ve never actually hosted them. Maybe you could get that hooked up, and Declan, you can come inside and help me bring some of the stuff out?”
Declan followed me inside, and I gave him the bags of hamburger and hot dogs buns to carry outside. I took the plate of hamburgers and the bag of hot dogs I’d gotten from the deli and brought them out, then I went back in and got the pasta salad. Cole had the propane tank all hooked up and the grill started.
“Getting this thing nice and hot for ya,” Cole said. “Do you have an
y grill spray?”
“Uh... no. Is that a requirement?”
“Not required; the stuff might stick a little more. Or maybe not. The hot dogs won’t.”
I interlaced my fingers and stretched my arms out straight. “All right, all right,” I said. “Stand back, everyone. I am about to impress you all with my grill skills.”
“Master griller and a poet,” Cole said, nudging Declan. “Let’s watch and learn.”
I took a deep breath. I could do this—all that was really required was put the burgers and the dogs on the grill, let them cook on one side, flip them over, let them finish on the other, and voila! Right? Now, though, with Cole and Declan right there watching, I felt a little wave of nervousness, like I was going to somehow mess this up.
I took the plastic wrap off the burgers and placed them down on the grill, the meat sizzling.
“Can I have a hamburger and a hot dog?” Declan asked.
Cole looked at him. “You think you can eat that much?”
“I can.”
“I better do a good job on these, then,” I said. I was less concerned about the hot dogs; they were already cooked through, it was just a matter of making sure they didn’t get too charred.
“Surprise!”
I froze, spatula poised above the grill. It was my mother, and behind her, was Bill.
