Page 112 of Forfeits

I grabbed a tea towel and brushed it over my face.

“Is it…not going well?”

At least that made me kind of laugh. I shook my head.

“It’s not that,” I said, trying to keep control of my emotions. “This was Daniel’s favorite recipe.”

“Oh, honey,” Aiden said. “Come here.”

He came into the kitchen, and I practically collapsed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, sniffling against his shirt.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve made a special meal for anybody. And I forgot that I hadn’t made this since before he died.”

Aiden looked at the ingredients and half-done lasagna on the counter.

“Do you want me to take over? I’ve never made it before, but I can follow a recipe.”

“No. No, I can do it. But…could you chop up the carrots and celery?”

“Yeah, of course. Where do you keep your knives?”

“In there,” I said, sniffling and trying to remember that Daniel was here with me, though not in physical form. He’d love that I was making this for his parents, even if they had misguided ideas about the raising of his daughter.

“And…can you just, I don’t know, talk to me? While we’re working? About whatever—the news, your job, the band. Are you playing any gigs in the near future?”

“As a matter of fact…”

So Aiden chopped and talked, and I did the rest. By the time I was sliding the casserole in the oven for its final bake, I had a hold of myself—and that was another thing got through. Hopefully it wouldn’t be so hard the next time.

“Okay, what time is it?” I asked, loading the dishes into the dishwasher and turning it on. “Do I have time to change?”

Aiden looked me over. “I mean, I hope so. You’ve got tomato sauce everywhere.”’

I looked down at myself. Sure enough, I was splattered with little red dots and splotches and smeared cottage cheese.

“Fuck,” I said.

The doorbell rang.

I ran past Aiden and up the stairs. “Just answer it, and I’ll be down in a minute!”

“But they don’t even know I’m here. Fletcher, you look fine, I was only teasing.”

“You’ll have to wing it.”

I felt bad for him. I really did, but as I flew into my bedroom and frantically changed into clean jeans and a blue button-down, I had faith that Daniel’s parents wouldn’t do anything drastic when Aiden answered the door, like leave immediately or yell at him.

As soon as I’d finished dressing, I checked my hair and face in the bathroom mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs. Miraculously, Aiden was holding his own, and filling glasses for Annie and Brian while regaling them with some crazy work story.

“Oh, there he is,” he said, with relief.

“Hi,” I said. “I just had to change my clothes. How are you both?”

“Hello, Fletcher,” Annie said, gazing at me with a smug smile while Brian shook my hand. He greeted me warmly. It seemed like Brian at least wanted to start things off on the right foot.

---