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“So good,” I mumble through another mouthful. For the next few minutes, all I focus on is consumption. I can’t bear to glance Charlie’s way again and find him staring at me with that same intensity.
Or worse, ignoring me in pursuit of his own delicious meal.
Something is wrong in my brain. At some point a couple of wires got crossed, and now I’m too focused on how Charlie interacts with me. As if he’s integral to my well-being.
Which he is not.
“I made dessert too.” Charlie’s declaration pulls me out of my thoughts and forces my eyes up from my plate.
The sheepish expression on his face softens all the hard points inside me. The ones demanding I protect myself.
“You did?” I glance around. “Where is this mystery dessert?”
“Things didn’t go exactly to plan.” His eyes shift away.
Consider my curiosity piqued. I stand from the table, peering around the kitchen, wanting a glimpse of this food that has Charlie off-kilter. “What do you mean by not going to plan?” I stroll toward the island, but only see the remnants of the dinner. Nothing sweet. “Is it edible?”
“Yes. The baking part didn’t go wrong.”
I face him. “But something did go wrong? What is it? What are you hiding?”
Charlie pulls his napkin off his lap before standing and striding into the kitchen. “No need to go hunting for it, I’ll show you.”
Even though he says he will, my fake husband hesitates, fists on his hips. While he works out whatever silent debate he’s got going on, I boost myself up to sit on the clean part of the counter. This puts me closer to his height. Gives me the sense we’re on equal footing.
“Come on.” I reach out my leg, poking his thigh with my toe.
“It’s embarrassing.” Still, he’s smiling again.
“Do you not remember the first day we met? Or how about the one after that? You, Charlie Keller, are a pro at embarrassing yourself in front of me.” I tilt forward, lowering my voice as if we’re sharing a secret. “And it only makes me like you more.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have revealed that, but when he gives me such a joyful grin, it’s hard to regret my honesty. Something about Charlie turns me playful. He naturally surpasses my bitchy armor without effort.
He lets out a defeated sigh. “Okay. But I need to preface this by saying I tried, but I won’t be offended if you laugh.”
“Alright,” I say, dragging the word out.
Charlie opens the fridge, retrieving a platter. The serving dish holds something resembling a cake, and I wonder what would have me laughing about that.
Then he stands in front of me, and I choke on air.
“What is that?” I don’t know whether to lean close for a better look or run away screaming.
Charlie offers a defeated smile. “I tried to make it look like Pig. The plan was sound, but something went wrong during the execution.”
I’ll say. The thing before me is a strange splotchy mixer of vanilla and chocolate icing, with unbalanced eyes and a gaping mouth that looks more like a demon trying to swallow souls than my friendly animal companion.
“It’s,” I snort, “hideous.” More laughter spills out of me, filling the kitchen and easing all the tension from my shoulders.
How can he do this? Put me at ease without even trying?
Part of it has to be the vulnerability. Charlie never puts up shields between us, while that’s all I ever seem to do.
Because it’s all I’ve ever known.
He sets the monster cake down and grabs a plate. Next thing I know, he’s handing me a fork and holding up a section of the offending dessert.
“Let me know if I at least got the taste right.”
