Page 40 of Someday Not Soon

He nudges my elbow across the console. “Doesn’t matter what the situation is. If it means I get to spend time with you, I’m all in.”

I try not to let him see the blush I feel creep up on my cheeks, or the smile I attempt to bite back. But it’s useless because his comment makes me feel so completely seen and appreciated that I’m bursting with joy.

We head into the first grocery store, taking every slab of tri-tip and package of chicken thighs that they have in stock. It’s still not enough to feed the amount of people that will be in attendance, but it’s a start. The cart is completely filled, as people give us odd looks, attempting to understand why we’re buying a full cart of meat.

One man in particular, with suspenders and a handlebar mustache, can’t take his eyes off of us. As soon as Jude walks off to another aisle to grab seasoning, the older man walks up to me. He grips the front of my cart, so I’m unable to move it.

“You can’t possibly eat all of that,” he sneers.

I hate this. Being bombarded by a stranger, who is apparently the meat police. There’s no way to get away without sounding like a bitch. Right as I’m about to respond, Jude strides back up to us. Maybe it’s because I’m hyper aware in these types of situations, but he always seems to tower above everyone more when he’s feeling pissed off. And right now, there’s a fire in his eyes when he sees the man blocking my path.

The stranger startles when he sees Jude step up beside me and instantly removes his hand from the cart.

Jude touches the small of my back. “Everything okay over here?”

“I was asking her what’s with all the meat? Seems like a waste,” the man interrupts, his attitude seemingly improving once another man is here.

“Just really hungry, I guess.” Jude turns the cart toward the checkout stand and we walk away, without another word. We leave the man there, in the middle of the produce aisle, with a flabbergasted look on his face.

Waiting in line, a laugh begins to bubble out of my chest at the absurdity of the situation. “He really thinks we’re about to go home and eat all of this meat now.”

Jude shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I was too pissed about him blocking you to think straight. I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.”

We load the conveyor belt with our groceries, as the clerk rings up the items.

I bite my lip, trying to hold back a laugh. “For a minute there I thought you were going to throw a steak at his head.”

“Trust me, I thought about it. All I saw was red when I saw him cornering you like that.”

A warmth fills me, knowing how instinctively protective he is. It’s a strange feeling, something I’m not used to, but one I could easily grow accustomed to. Is this how it feels? To have someone on your side, that will protect you at all costs, even over something as trivial as a grumpy old man? The outside air feels refreshing as we walk out of the store side by side. We push the cart through theparking lot, and as the pavement slopes downhill, the grocery cart begins to pick up speed.

I nod toward the cart. “Doesn’t it make you want to hop on and ride it?”

He smiles wide. “Don’t make me say it, El.”

“Say what?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Oh my god,” I groan. “I walked straight into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did.” He stops the cart in the middle of the lot. “Jump on, I’ll push you.”

I give him a look like he’s insane. “Everyone will stare. Besides, there’s a warning right on the cart to not ride it that way.”

“Fuck people staring. Fuck the rules. You said you wanted to, so let’s make it happen.”

I sigh, giving in way too easily. “Okay, fine. I will. I’m trusting you to help me not eat dirt out here though.”

Stepping onto the metal grate of the cart, I grip the handle tight. His body cages me in, his hands on either side of mine as he suddenly takes off, sprinting across the parking lot at breakneck speed with me riding the cart.

I’m screeching and laughing, the wind whipping around us as we hurtle toward the car. From behind me, I hear him shout, “Put your arms out! Titanic this bitch!”

And that’s how I find myself, arms spread wide, laughing harder than I have in years. A bright burst of happiness cutting through the darkness that’s lingered for far too long.

Two hours later, we pull into the parking lot of Little Elm, both of us exhausted but determined. We’re mediocre cooks at best, but the one thing we are good at is being stubborn as hell. We’re determined to make this work. Because the only other alternative at this point is having hundreds of hungry wedding guests. Thankfully, Sherie, the owner of Little Elm, came to our rescue, offering her commercial kitchen and walk-in refrigerator. There’s no way we could have done this with only household appliances.

With everything we need now at our fingertips, we unload the ice chests full of groceries and get to work. Jude takes charge of the commercial smoker out back, handling all of the tri-tip and chicken, while I dive into prepping side dishes in the cafe’s industrial kitchen. The menu isn’t going to be lobster tail and caviar, but at least there will be food. Plenty of it, that fits the outdoorsy, barn chic theme.

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