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Charlie: You know exactly what I’m referring to.
Me: …
The ellipses are my only response as I set my phone down to go check the oven. I pop it open to look at all the juicy, tender beef inside. Everything looks great as I close the door and head back to my phone.
Me: If you’re referring to the beef tenderloins, yes, everything is going just fine.
Charlie: See? Was that really so hard?
She has texted me incessantly since five a.m. She’s worried I won’t be able to finish cooking the rest of the meat we didn’t get to last night. I told her she doesn’t have to worry, that I have it all handled, but did that do anything to ease her mind? Nope. Not one bit.
Me: Considering this is the millionth text you’ve sent me in the three hours you’ve been gone, I’d say it’s slightly difficult to keep up with all of them.
Charlie: …millionth text may be a smidge of an overstatement.
I look back over the stream of texts, all starting five minutes after she left here. Which is not an exaggeration, either.
Me: I think it’s pretty accurate, actually.
I shake my head, then smile as I think about how fun it was to cook with her last night. We fell into a comfortable rhythm. Almost like our bodies knew how to dance around each other without us even having to think about it.
I never would have thought that would be possible because Charlie and I have always been like oil and water. Consistently pushing and pulling at each other. However, last night was different. We joked, laughed, and cooked together. I can’t think of a better night than last night in a long-ass time.
Charlie: Accurate shmaccurate. I just want this to be perfect for Joe and Irene.
Me: Shmaccurate??? That’s not even a word, Charlotte. And it will be perfect.
Charlie: It won’t be if the meat is burned! Can you check it again? And stop calling me Charlotte.
I smile at how easy it is to ruffle her feathers. I sigh as I place my phone down and head back over to the oven. She’ll just keep pestering me until I check it, yet again.
I open the oven door and notice the tops have browned to a perfect char. Just enough to give the meat that wonderful flavor, but not enough to be burned. I grab the oven mitts and pull the first tenderloin out. As I hunt for the thermometer, my phone rings.
I blindly reach for my phone while looking for the thermometer we used last night. “Hello?”
“What are you doing? Is everything okay?” I actually chuckle at this woman. I’ve never met someone so paranoid about everything going wrong quite like this. “Why are you laughing?” There’s a little indignation in her tone.
“Maybe because I think you’re funny, Charlotte.” I throw my fist up in victory when I finally find the thermometer behind the flour container on the counter. Which reminds me I have a ton of cleaning to do before everyone gets here later this afternoon.
“I’m not being funny, though.”
All I do is shake my head with silent chuckles filling my chest as I force out, “Uh huh.”
“I’m serious, Andrew! This needs to be perfect for them!” I can tell she’s getting more and more worked up.
I wipe the smile off my face and try to be more serious. There’s just something about her that brings out a lighter, more carefree side of me. Even though she gets under my skin just as often as she makes me smile. It’s a confusing feeling for sure.
“I promise I have everything handled here. Go get ready with the girls. Today will be perfect for Irene and Joe.”
They finally decided to tie the knot. Charlie and I volunteered to cook all the food. Well, Charlie did, and I said I could help since I was in town. I never would have thought the pretty redhead would lose her mind as much as she has over the damn food. If I had, I might not have volunteered to help.
Well, that’s a fucking lie, and I know it. I would have. I can’t resist the opportunity to be around her, no matter how much she drives me insane.
“Maybe I should come back over to help you finish.” I hear her moving things around. Most likely throwing things in her bag like the baffling person she is.
“You don’t trust me?” I’m a little offended. I’m a great fucking cook, not that Charlie has firsthand experience of that.
“Trust you? Why would I trust you? I don’t know you.”
