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“And the chicken is for—”
“Dean,” Maggie closed her eyes as if that would stop her best friend from reacting. “I invited him over to say thanks for all the help. Besides, this is cute romance novel type stuff, cooking for your significant other. At the very least, it will be a memorable experience.”
Audrey was quiet long enough that Maggie double checked that the call was still connected. It was.
“Maggie.” Audrey was using her soothing voice, “Dean knows you’re a vegetarian. He won’t expect you to make something you can’t eat.”
“He knows I don’t eat meat?”
“Of course. You’ve been a vegetarian since middle school. I’m pretty sure he knows you can’t cook, either.”
“But he eats meat. I have to feed him something.”
“So order takeout,” Audrey said. “Dean will not care if you cooked the meal or not. I don’t think he cooks much either. It’s a Crandall family trait.”
This wasn’t just a thank you meal. The purpose of dinner was to be impressive. To show Dean that she cared through an act of service. She was going to cook him something he would eat. Something delicious. What was that age-old saying? “The best way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.” So she would not order takeout. She would pull up her big girl panties and face the stove, and the raw meat, head on.
“I’m sure it will be great,” Audrey said. “Or at least edible.”
“Thank you. That’s the support I need.”
“I’m always supportive. Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Maggie shoved her head into one of her lower cabinets, staring at her toaster and waffle iron. “Do you have a food processor?”
“I think we have a blender. Will that work?”
“I don’t know. My recipe says ‘food processor.’”
“I’ll ask Mac,” Audrey said, and the line clicked as she hung up the phone.
“I can do this,” Maggie said out loud and stared down at the chicken. “Later.”
She reached for the zucchini instead.
Forty minutes later, the squash still wasn’t spiralized. Maggie had sliced her finger, and she still hadn’t touched the chicken. She was thinking of taking a break and starting the sauce, but that required the food processor, and Audrey hadn’t called her back. If she didn’t hear from her soon, she’d have to go knock on Mrs. Weller’s door and hope the tiny, ancient woman had one. Except Mrs. Weller was visiting her son in Alberta this week. This dinner plan had seemed a lot more doable before she’d gotten started.
When the knock on her door came, Maggie let out a sigh of relief. That had to be Audrey with the food processor. Maggie rushed to the door.
“I love you,” she said as she threw the door open.
“What the fuck happened to your hand?” Mac’s face was thunderous, but beneath the anger was something that looked strangely like panic.
“My hand?” Maggie looked down at the paper towel she’d wrapped around her thumb after cutting it on the blade of the spiralizer. She was fisting her fingers to put pressure on the cut and stop the bleeding. There was barely any blood, and Maggie was pretty sure it had already clotted. The tiny slice stung more than anything else, but Mac looked like a cornered animal as he shifted his focus from her makeshift bandage to the tiny drops of blood she’d left on the counter and back.
Mac pushed his way into the kitchen. He dumped the food processor onto the counter and reached for Maggie’s hand. His own trembled as he peeled back and uncurled her fingers.
“I’m okay,” Maggie said, but despite his glare, his fingers were gentle, and she let him look for himself. “It’s just a cut on my thumb.”
Mac looked at the pad of her finger, turning it left and right to see the damage. His fingers and palms were rough with calluses and small scars, but the way he swept those same fingers over her hand was soothing. Her limbs grew heavier the longer he touched her.
“You need a Band-Aid. Did you clean this?” Mac’s gaze flicked to hers. He almost blocked the light out of her kitchen as he stood with his head bent over hers.
“I don’t have a Band-Aid,” Maggie said, “Hence the paper towel.”
Mac closed his eyes and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He let out a long sigh.
“I have one in my car. Wash that off. I’ll go get it.”
