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“What are you looking for?” he asks me.
“I wrote something for you,” I tell him. “I wrote a script I was gonna read to you.”
Mason chuckles quietly, pulling me back up to my feet. “You don’t need a script,” he says when I’ve spun around to face him again. “When have things between us ever followed a script? I used to be MasonI-always-have-a-planWestbrook until I met you. And my life went off the rails in the most perfect way.”
“Oh, jeez,” I mutter. “It did go off the rails, didn’t it? I’ve been a train wreck from day one.”
“And that’s exactly how I like it. Unpredictable. Unscripted. Exciting. You’re the only train wreck for me, Karli.”
“Are you sure about this?” I ask. “I don’t want you to see me the way you see your ex. Like someone to save. A problem to fix.”
He strokes my cheek. “You’re the solution, baby. You’re the answer to every question. If life is one big test, you’re the cheatsheet.”
I find myself laughing. “Well, that was kind of corny. But I like it.” I hug him again, the biggest smile on my face. “I love you, Mason.”
“And I love you.” He presses his lips to my scalp. We hold each other, swaying back and forth. “I’m so glad I came back for you.”
I hold him tighter. “I told you—soulmates always find each other.” The first time I said that to him, I was only joking, making fun of him and his blowup doll. But right now, I couldn’t be more serious.
“They sure do.” He lifts my chin with his knuckles. “You’re my soulmate, Tough Girl.”
“No doubts?” I dare to ask.
His lips sweep over mine. “No doubts. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
54
KARLI
Three weeks later…
“Okay. I added the chicken stock,” Mason says, stirring the pot. “What do I do now?”
I peek at the stove from where I’m at the counter, foil-wrapping the potatoes and herbs. “Keep stirring. You’re doing great, babe.”
His skeptical gaze bounces from me to the recipe card in his hand and back again. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Me, cooking for our families?”
Chuckling, I stroll over to where he’s standing. I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head on his back. “It’s gonna be amazing, Mason. Just follow the recipe card.” I remind him, giving him a squeeze.
“It seems too easy,” he says. “I’m having trust issues.”
I laugh. “It’s supposed to be easy. Anybody should be able to follow the recipe and end up with a delicious, home-cooked meal in twenty minutes. At least, that’s the idea.”
So many people have been telling me that I need to box up my recipes and sell them. At first, I took it as a joke. But more and more, I’ve started playing with an idea.Karli’s Kitchen Meal Prep Kits.
I know it’s crazy to be starting a business right now and there’s already a lot of competition in the meal prep sector of the market. But maybe I can put my own original spin on the idea and make something of this.
Lately, Mason has been my kitchen guinea pig, I’ve had the poor man standing at the stove in our new house night after night, trying out my cooking instructions. His cooking skills have been improving, and really fast, too. But the big test is today. We’ve finally signed a lease and moved into our new place, and our families are coming over for our housewarming party.
I won’t lie, my man is stressing over this.
Not that I blame him. The Brightons and the Westbrooks under one roof tonight will make for onemegafamily dinner. Mega appetites, mega personalities and a whole lot of noise. I don’t know if our tiny rented bungalow will be able to handle it.
“Babe, don’t be dramatic. You’re cooking one side dish,” I remind him. “I’m cooking the rest of the meal. It’ll be fine.” As confident as I am in my methods, I want to ease Mason into things. It would be too much pressure to expect him to cook the entire meal for tonight.
“Fine,” he pouts, bringing his eyes back to the recipe card and pouring in the heavy cream. Then his attention comes back to me. “So today is your deadline,” he says, his voice soft.
I swallow past the ball that rises into my throat. “Yeah. Today is the deadline.”
