Page 43 of The Kitchen Contract

Her smile is bright and satisfied. “Well, what are you waiting for? Eat up!”

“Bon appétit.” I reach over and clink my fork with hers before diving in. I can’t control the moan of pleasure that escapes me when the sweet tang of the berries bursts on my taste buds. The toast itself is cooked to perfection—slightly crisp on the outside and soft on the inside.

“Seriously, how is this so good?” I ask between bites. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to refute my claim that you are a kitchen fairy. This is truly magical.”

She laughs and looks pleased by my praise as she takes a bite of her own toast.

“Well, what do you think of my apartment? That was your main purpose in coming here today, wasn’t it? I’m anxious to hear your assessment.”

I lower my fork and look around, pretending to study the room. The fact is, I made up my mind about this place almost as soon as I walked in.

“I like it. It feels very you.”

She narrows her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” I struggle to put this feeling into words. “It feels warm and inviting and comfortable. You said the lack of windows makes it dark, but you’ve made it glow somehow.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome.” I pick up my plate and resume eating. A bit of powdered sugar falls from the edge of my plate and dusts the knee of my black slacks. I attempt to brush it off, but end up creating a cloudy white smudge instead.

“I’m sorry,” Nora says, gesturing to the mess. “This is the hazard of eating without a table. Now you see why I don’t have people over.”

“Nonsense. I sit behind a desk all day, so no one will even see this, and even if they did, it was totally worth it.” I accentuate my statement with another big bite.

“Even still, I think I’ll keep cooking at your place.”

“You know that’s fine by me. You’re welcome to make as much food as you want, even if I have to put in extra gym time.”

She laughs. “No, you don’t.”

“I’m totally serious.” I cover my heart with my hand. “I’ve had to add two extra workouts per week since we started the show to balance out all the ridiculously good food you’ve been leaving for me.”

“Your words say you’re annoyed, but your face says you like it.”

Another clump of sugar drops as laughter shakes my fork. “Like I said a minute ago, it’s all totally worth it.” Not just for the great food, but for the company. Would it be weird to tell her how much she’s assuaged my loneliness? I haven’t thought about getting a pet in weeks, except once when I passed a man on the sidewalk carrying a parrot on his shoulder. I briefly imagined what it would be like to have a pet who could talk. But then I remembered a childhood friend of mine who had parakeets growing up and the feathers that seemed to end up all over his house, no matter how diligently he cleaned up around the cage, at which point I decided I’m not a bird guy.

Before I can decide whether or not to share any of this, she surprises me with a question. “You were engaged once, right? You said you might tell me about it the next time we were together.”

I pause with a bite of toast halfway to my mouth, startled into stillness by the abrupt change of topic. I catch myself and snap out of it, putting the bite in and chewing slowly to buy myself some time. This is not a conversation I’d planned on having today. All of a sudden, I feel hot, like someone lit a fireplace in here.

After an awkward moment of silence, Nora forces a smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you about that. You don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s okay.” I put down my mostly empty plate, my appetite diminishing as a knot forms in my stomach, and rest my elbows on my knees. My hands are clenched tightly in front of me. “Yes, I was engaged a few years ago. Obviously, we didn’t get married. I think I told you that she wasn’t faithful.”

Nora nods. “You did. Do you ever miss her?”

“No.” I can answer that promptly and truthfully. “It came as a shock when it happened—it was all very dramatic—but it didn’t take me long to realize I was better off without her.”

She looks curious but doesn’t push. Much to my surprise, I feel a compulsion to tell her the whole ugly story. There’s something in me that thinks getting it out there is the right thing to do, even if it makes her realize that I’m not the guy for her. There’s no way someone as sweet as Nora couldn’t see me differently after she learns what I did. But that doesn’t stop me from opening my mouth and letting it all spill out in a big gross pile of word vomit.

“She was actually engaged to someone else before me—Grant.”

I watch as she processes this, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face. “Your brother Grant?”

I nod. “They had been engaged for a few months when Marissa came to my house crying one night. She told me that she and Grant had had a fight and broken up. I tried to calm her down and tell her that it would be okay, that they would get back together once they talked it out, but she insisted that it was over. She was so upset that she was shaking, and I didn’t think she should drive. I offered to take her home, but she didn’t want to be alone, so I let her sleep on my couch that night.”

Looking back through the jaded lens of experience, I can see how that was just the first in a long line of manipulations and corresponding bad decisions.

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