Page 75 of What He's Been Missing

“What’s that I smell?” I said. “I’m starving.”

“I don’t know. Something Scarlet has going on in the kitchen,” Ian said.

“But you have an apron on,” I pointed out, standing in the foyer with Ian and Xavier.

“I only agreed to put on the apron. My job is to pour the wine.”

Ian’s apartment was like a small house inside of an apartment building. Two floors, three bedrooms, a formal dining room, and library. A front and back balcony. To the left of the foyer was the living room, with leather couches and three flat screens Ian commonly kept on each major news station. To the right was the dramatic formal dining room Mrs. Dupree had decorated with her mother’s china cabinet and eight-person dinner table. I’d spent so much time in the apartment when Ian had first moved in, the neighbors thought I was going to live there, too, and started calling me Mrs. Dupree. I laughed it off, but it was kind of cool helping him get settled in, pick out drapes, and paint. For the first time, I’d felt what it must be like to move in with a man—to find a place naked and make it a home.

“Welcome!” Scarlet called happily from the kitchen. “Come in! Make yourselves at home.”

Ian and Xavier went into the living room, joking as Xavier continued to give Ian a hard time about the red apron. I knew it would be off by the time I saw Ian again. No man could handle that amount of teasing—not even a newlywed.

Only because people always expect women to help other women in the kitchen, I decided to go see Scarlet. There were still gift boxes and moving boxes lining the walls in the hallway and dining room. A brand-new set of beautiful, gold-rimmed china sat in a formal layout on Grandma Dupree’s dining-room table. The knife they’d cut their cake with was in the china cabinet.

“Hi, Scarlet,” I said, reaching out to hug Scarlet in the kitchen.

She was in her red apron, rushing around like she was hosting a dinner party for fifty. Flour. Sugar. Cooking books. Bags from the grocery store. Everything was everywhere.

“You need any help?”

“Rachel!” Scarlet leaned into my hug but kept her oven-mitten-clad hands to her sides. “I’m fine. Almost done. Just some final touches.”

A full soul-food spread was forming on the counter.

“Wow, girl! I see you’re in here throwing down. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I can’t. But there’s nothing a cookbook can’t handle. A man’s got to eat. Right?” Scarlet reached into the oven and pulled out a tray of fresh biscuits. I leaned in to catch the scent and noticed that they were shaped into little hearts.

“Cute,” I said. “Heart-shaped biscuits.”

“I got the cutest cupcake-shape-maker kit with one of my wedding gifts,” she said. “I use them on everything: turn sandwich bread into stars, biscuits into hearts, cheese into rainbows.”

She smiled and slid the biscuits onto the counter with the rest of the spread—macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, collard greens, and sweet potatoes. Suddenly, I saw all of the “black Martha Stewart” changes in Scarlet that Ian had brought up at lunch. Listening to her move around the kitchen talking about recipes and what she was going to do with all those wedding gifts, I wondered where the woman with the black and purple fascinator was.

“Wow! You’re very busy,” I said. “I wonder what Ian is going to do when you leave for Congo. Probably lose like fifteen pounds.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. I’m not going.”

“What?”

“I called it off,” Scarlet said passively. “A woman’s place is at home with her husband.”

“But you were so excited,” I pushed. “What are you going to do?”

“Stay at home.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Stay at home. Do some modeling. Volunteer at the center downtown.”

“Does Ian know about this?” I asked.

“Well, we haven’t talked about it just yet, but I know he’ll be thrilled,” Scarlet gushed. “We’re getting pregnant soon, too. I’ll have to be at home for that. What? Do you think it will upset him?”

“Oh, no,” I said, helping Scarlet begin to carry the food trays into the dining room. “I just thought he assumed you’d stay in school—since that’s what you’d talked about before. I’m sure you’re right.”

Scarlet danced in and out of the kitchen like she’d just brokered the deal of a lifetime. I followed her lead in silence, wondering what exactly was going on in her head.

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