Page 46 of The Upside of Falling
“You’re really going to teach me?” I sound wistful, more so than I intended, but fuck, this very well might be my first demonstration in the kitchen.
“Of course. Now, fill that pot up with water first, and we’ll get to the balls in a second.” With a wink, she starts gathering everything while I fill up the pot.
My first cooking lesson with the first girl I really care about. This could be more than I bargained for when it comes to meeting someone, but right now, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Chapter Nineteen
RORY
“And pour the Parmesan cheese all over. Yeah, just like that.”
I feel . . . content.
I think that’s the only way I can really describe this feeling—absolute contentment.
My heart is full from the way Colby brightens each time he does something right, my eyes sparkle with every smile that comes my way, and my soul feels fulfilled with the opportunity to enrich this man’s life, a life that seems broken and battered.
And I’m glad he didn’t open up to me right then, because even though I want to support him and will listen to anything he wants to tell me, I’m not sure I could take it.Yet.I’m not sure the story behind why his parents never taught him how to cook would settle well with me, and my heart feels incredibly heavy as it is.
I want to enjoy tonight, not feel sick to my stomach from being upset.
“Okay, are you ready for this part?” I ask, Colby standing behind me, looking over my shoulder. “We’re going to mix everything up, but we’re going to use our hands, because it’s the best way to do it.”
“Just stick them right in there?”
“Yup, like this.” I stick my hands in the bowl and start squishing around the meat, egg, cheese, seasonings, and breadcrumbs.
Like the smooth man he is, he comes up behind me, his broad chest to my slender back, and reaches around me, sliding his hands down my arms until they’re mixing with the meat as well. He’s tentative at first, testing out the consistency, but once he’s comfortable, he really starts smashing the ingredients together.
Meat oozes through our fingers, and our laughs mingle with the sounds of raw meat being squished.
“I shouldn’t find this relaxing, because it almost looks like we’re squishing brains, but for some reason, this almost seems therapeutic.”
“It’s why my mom cooks. It’s like therapy for her, and meatballs are her favorite to make.”
“I think meatballs are my favorite to make too.”
I chuckle and look over my shoulder, his expression playful and sweet. “I’m making a mental note that you are now in charge of squishing all things in the kitchen.”
“Bring it on. This shit is a good time.” He gathers another chunk of ground beef and crushes it between his fingers.
Pulling my hands from the bowl, I duck under his arms and wash my hands while he continues to mix—or more accurately—play.
The Colby I met at first was an older, weathered man, like he’d been seasoned too much for his age. He was volatile and closed off, but this man standing at my counter, squishing meat between his fingers with a smile on his face? He’s different. It almost seems like a part of him has been repressed for years, and when we have moments like this—when he feels he’s allowed—he comes out to play.
And I like his playful side a lot, just as much as I like the serious and romantic sides of him.
Oh, and the romantic side? Easily my favorite.Although I am really starting to like this playful Colby too.
I take out a baking sheet, spray it, and set it on top of the pre-heated oven. “Ready to make some balls?”
He looks at the meat mixture and says, “I’m not sure this is mixed enough. Give me a few more hours.”
Rolling my eyes, laughter erupting from me, I stop his hands from doing any more damage to the poor meat. “It’s time to roll, Colby, or you might be here all night.”
His gaze darkens, his eyes narrowing. “I see nothing wrong with that.”
I swallow . . . hard.Yes, I see nothing wrong with that either. “I meant, we wouldn’t eat until really late,” I say awkwardly.
