Page 85 of Man Hands

“Dip…twist…” I coat the hot dog with corn-dog batter. “And,fry!”

I slip the first dog into the fryer. The sizzle covers the sound of Tom’s hystericalhiccups.

And so it goes. I fry. I make slaw. And, on his side of the counter, Tom sobers up enough that I invite him into the shot as I’m plating the food. “You know who I’m going to share this with, right? Mr. Fixit is here. He built this fab kitchen.” I smile at him andbeckon.

I can almost hear our live viewership saying “awwww” as Tom steps behind the counter to give meahug.

“Want the first bite, you big corn dog?” I ask him, holding up askewer.

“Anytime, anyplace, honeybunch.” He gives me a quick kiss that’s sure to break hearts. “Anything you make me is my newfavoritefood.”

I hope our viewership is melting, because Isurelyam.

He picks up another corn dog and hands it to me. We tap them together, as if toasting with glasses of fine champagne. Tom reaches over to tap a button which will play our outro music for the viewers. Then he loops his arm around me and takesanotherbite.

His computerchimes.

“That’s a wrap!” myhoneysays.

Then we both burst outlaughing.

Tom shuts off the lights and folds me into his arms, his Man Hands landing firmly where they belong: on my ass. He’s still laughing. Andkissingme.

Sadie comes in with the girls and frowns at a trace of flour on the floor outside the pantry. “Uh-oh. Looks like there was anaccident.”

“Oh, you have no idea!”Isay.

“Shut it,” a voice says from behind the pantry door. There’s some shuffling and then Ash finally opens the door, still completely dusted, but at leastdressed.

“Not. One. Word.” She smooths her hair. As we all watch, she walks slowly and methodically across the kitchen and to thebathroom.

“She totally hates me,” Braht says, emerging from thepantry.

“She does,” Tomagrees.

“I’m so into that,” Braht says. He grabs a corn dog off theplate.

We all laugh again. Maybe because we’re giddy, maybe because it’s a stress relief, or maybe because seeing Ash walk past us like the Queen of England after getting groped by Mr. Bratwurst is about as amazing as watching a totaleclipse.

Tom leans in and whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to see what you’ll cookupnext.”

“Whatever it is, it’ll be an adventure,” I say, because that’s how my life with Tom is. One adventure after another. Awkward, ridiculous, and beautiful allatonce.

“Now we eat!” I announce. It’s corn dogs foreveryone.

No one—not even Sadie—reaches for the slawfirst.

* * *