Page 54 of Something’s Brewing

Garrett exhaled. “I still remember those Chinese dumplings you brought to the last game night and I wondered, do you know how to make egg rolls? I mean, I don’t want to assume anything. I just thought maybe⁠—”

Lily burst out laughing. “That’s what you’ve been working yourself up over?”

He grimaced. “Yes.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you mentioning Madison’s favorite food is Chinese?” Her grin turned knowingly mischievous.

Garrett hesitated a second before nodding. “I want to cook for her. A real dinner. Something that shows . . . effort.” Something that might make this place, and him, feel less temporary to her.

“That’s so sweet.”

He could tell Lily was holding in her excitement. Most of the time she’d jump up and down.

“Well, lucky for you,” she went on, “my parents own a restaurant in Manhattan’s Chinatown. I grew up rolling dumplings and carrying trays. Cooking is basically in my DNA.”

Garrett’s shoulders loosened. “That explains why you’re such a natural at Rosie’s.”

“Aw, that means a lot.” She held a hand to her chest. “I’ve been waitressing since I was this tall.” She held her hand near her waist. “And honestly, Rosie’s felt like home the minute I walked in.”

She clapped her hands together. “We’re not just making egg rolls. We’re planning an entire dinner. Do you know her favorite dish?”

He shook his head. “No. Just the egg rolls. But I can find out.”

“Great! Because this is going to be romantic!”

Romantic. The word landed in his chest. He hadn’t set out to fall for Madison. He’d barely planned to let her stay in his orbit this long. But between the late-night talks facing the lake, the shared silences that said more than words, and the quiet touches, his defenses had slipped. He was building something with her without meaning to, laying a foundation for a life he hadn’t dared to imagine before she walked back into it.

“This means a lot, Lily. I want her to know she matters to me and belongs here.”

Lily nodded like she understood far more than he’d said. “Food is a language of love, Garrett. You’re speaking loud and clear.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “Text me when you’re free. I’ll make it work.”

As he stepped back into the sunlight, his heart felt lighter and more terrified than it had in years. Letting Madison matter this much was risky, but he was already too far gone.

Lily took command of Garrett’s kitchen with cheerful efficiency. They chopped, laughed, and argued over how thin egg roll wrappers should be.

She glanced at the glowing numbers on the microwave clock. “Perfect timing.”

Garrett followed her gaze, then looked back at the table she had just finished setting. Lily had arranged two simple place settings with white plates, polished silverware, and a pair of ornate metal chopsticks resting neatly across each setting. Small ceramic bowls sat nearby, ready for sauce. A three-wick candle flickered gently between them, the warm glow reflecting in the glassware she’d insisted he use instead of his collection of mismatched pint glasses.

She stepped over to the counter and picked up the bouquet of flowers he’d brought home earlier—yellow daisies, purple coneflowers, and sprigs of greenery—and placed them into a clear vase in the center of the table. “There,” she said with a decisive nod. “Now it feels like a date.”

“This looks great. Thanks again, Lily. For everything. Really.”

She waved him off. She pulled two small containers, each labeled with their names, out of her bag and placed them on the island. “I made dessert.”

Garrett opened one and peeked inside. “You made fortune cookies? And they have a fortune in them?”

Lily smiled. “They do.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

“Okay, I need to go before Madison gets here. This is your moment, not mine.” She grabbed her bag and headed toward the door, pausing just long enough to flash him a bright, encouraging smile. “You’ve got this. Have a wonderful dinner . . . and good luck!”

Then she bounced out the door with a burst of energy that made him chuckle under his breath.

Garrett inhaled slowly, then hurried down the hall to change, swapping his T-shirt for a button-down and running a quick hand through his hair in the mirror. His pulse drummed steadily in his ears as he stepped back into the living room. A soft knock sounded against the glass patio door.