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She laughed. “Are you going to tell me your repertoire extends beyond French toast and pancakes now?”
“If I can spell it, I'm sure I can find a recipe and figure it out.” I didn't have any experience, but that’s where YouTube came in. “It’s only fair. You’ve been doing all the dinners, so what would you like?”
I could hear fingernails tapping on her desk. “If you insist. But I’ll start you off easy. Spaghetti and meatballs for the main course, and roasted asparagus with Parmesan cheese for the vegetable. Think you can handle that?”
Since I knew how to spell both asparagus and spaghetti, my answer was pretty simple. “It’ll be ready at seven.”
“Are you sure you don't want me to come home early to help you boil the water?” She giggled.
“Don't be late, or it'll be cold.”
I got off the phone with only one more insinuation that I couldn't figure out the kitchen. Once I hung up, I turned to my computer and typed inroasted asparagus. It didn't look too hard. I made a quick list of things to pick up at the market on the way home.
Five hours later, I was proud of the progress I’d made. I had meatballs in a pan with sauce I’d made myself. Tomato sauce, tomato paste, Italian seasoning, and extra basil turned out to be easy enough. I’d bought a jar of Prego as a backup, but didn’t need it. I hid it in the back of the cupboard.
The meatballs had been harder. Only four made it through the process; the other four fell apart in the pan. The directions hadn’t said how hard to squeeze them. But the menu was spaghetti with meatballs, not meatballs with spaghetti, so two each would have to suffice. The evidence of my mistakes went down the disposal.
The water reached a rapid boil. I put the spaghetti noodles in at ten minutes before seven and slid the baking sheet with the asparagus into the hot oven.
I opened a nice bottle of pinot and poured two glasses to celebrate. All I needed now was my girlfriend. This was clearly a night to celebrate.
Amy arrived moments later. “Hi, handsome. Miss me?”
“Naturally, but you can’t steal my line.”
She gave me a quick kiss. “You were going to call me handsome?”
“You know what I mean.” I smiled and fingered the ring in my pocket——the latest thing I’d bought for Amy.
It was time.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
I pulled the ring from my pocket and fisted it. “Close your eyes.”
“Liam, I’m starving. Can’t we eat first?”
“No,” I said firmly. “Now close your eyes.”
She complied, reluctantly.
I took her hand.
Her eyelids fluttered, threatening to open for a peek.
“Keep your eyes closed.” I said.
She huffed. “You and your rules.”
“I’d like you to wear this for me,” I told her.
Chapter 27
Amy
Ever since grade school,I’d dreaded the “close your eyes” surprises. In fifth grade, Tommy Powanski had me close my eyes and open my mouth. My surprise had been a grasshopper to chew on. The experience had ruined this common ritual for me.
Still, I’d closed my eyes for Liam. It was hard.
