Page 117 of The Reason I Married Him
“You have problems.”
“Problems or goals, babe?” I wink at her. After I swallow my bite, I say, “So mac and cheese is a favorite. Maybe I’ll try to make you some.”
“Please don’t.”
I scoff. “Do you think I won’t be good at it? You don’t know about my cooking abilities.”
“Yes, I do. You told me you weren’t great at cooking. Something about being able to only make a peanut butter and jelly.”
I clutch my heart jokingly. “Mrs. Preston, look at you listening.”
“You know, it’s not a requirement to be so dramatic.”
“But it’s what makes you smile,” I reply.
“Does it, though?” she asks, and I can see the slightest tilt of the corners of her mouth.
“Yes, it does. But back to the task at hand.”
“And what task would that be?” she asks.
“Getting to know what makes you tick. What makes you happy. So mac and cheese is your make-out partner?—”
“Can you not put it that way?”
“No, I prefer to use those terms because it makes you roll your eyes, and if you don’t roll your eyes at me at least twenty times a day, then I’m not doing my job.”
“Your job of what?” she asks. “Irritating me?”
“Precisely,” I say while I lean forward and boop her on the nose, causing her eyes to roll again. “See.” I point at her. “That’s number fifteen. Well on my way to hitting my quota for the day.” She mutters something unintelligible under her breath, but that smile still peeks through, letting me know I’m still in the clear with teasing her. “So if you were to have a threesome with your mac and cheese, who would you invite for . . . dessert?”
“I hate this game,” she states.
“But you’re obviously still going to play.”
“Do I even have an option?” she asks.
“I think it’s cute that you think there’s a slight possibility, but no, there’s no option for you.”
“That’s what I thought.” She huffs but then gives her answer some thought. “If you’re talking about my dream meal, because I think that’s what you’re trying to determine in your ass-backward way, I’d say a Caesar salad with croutons, but pumpernickel croutons because those are the best. Mac and cheese from The Cliffs, because Hank makes this incredible cheese sauce that is unbeatable. After that, I’d top it all off with some sort of ice cream sundae.”
“Not cherry pie?” I ask, surprised.
She shakes her head. “Don’t get me wrong, I love cherry pie, but I love ice cream even more. And I especially love it when it’s a simple sundae, but I’d take any kind of sundae, honestly.”
“How do you define a simple sundae?”
“Don’t judge me, because I know this will come off as boring and bland, but I’d define it as vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, chopped peanuts, whipped cream, cherries, and chocolate sprinkles.”
“Hell,” I say, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “That sounds really fucking good right now. And would you eat that while watching something?”
“Uh . . . sure,” she says, confused.
“Like what?” I ask.
“I don’t know, a movie? That’s a weird question.”
“No,” I say, “I’m trying to see what kind of movies and shows you like to watch.”
