Page 3 of The Perfect Love

“Thanks for making me a homemade meal, Robbie. You’re the best ever. I’m so glad I came to live here. I’ll even wash the dishes to show you how much I love you.”

I do a slow clap.

“Excellent feminine voice. You should consider voice acting.”

He just arches a brow and I roll my eyes.

“Fine. Thank you so much for making me food. Now, seriously. Where’s the garlic bread? If you tell me you didn’t make any, I’ll have to dock a star on your review on Yelp.”

The timer on the oven beeps, and he stands. “If you had to choose between shadow daddies or garlic bread, which would you choose?”

I stare at him blankly. “Shadow daddies feeding me garlic bread. Duh.”

He opens the oven and pulls out a tray of my edible boyfriend—garlic bread.

“That wasn’t a choice.”

“Uh, yeah it was. I heard them both in the same sentence. That means they go together.”

He sets the tray on some hot plates on the table, and I quickly yank three pieces off, burning my fingers along the way, but it’s a helpful reminder not to shove it in my mouth yet if I want to taste it rather than burn half my taste buds off.

I dig into some pasta, and silence takes over the room as we both eat.

But the silence doesn’t last long.

“So, speaking of carb loading, are you going to play volleyball this year?”

I lift my head with my fork halfway to my mouth. “Wow. What a subtle transition. But also, what does carb loading have to do with volleyball?”

“Don’t athletes carb load?”

“Yeah, like hockey players and football players who are running—or skating, whatever—for hours at a time.”

“Potayto, potahto. Are you playing?”

Volleyball isn’t exactly a sore subject, it just feels like a different life since I’ve done it, which is strange because it used to be one of the biggest parts of my life.

“No. My paid internship at Promise Advocacy is going to take up a lot of that kind of time, and that’s what I’d rather be doing. I might see if there’s a rec league on campus though. I miss it.”

“Sorry. Not trying to be a bummer.”

“You’re not. It’s another part of me I want to find again.”

“Not to be totally sappy, but I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, wallowing for almost a year before finally facing life again is something to be proud of.” I shove a bite of garlic bread in my mouth.

“Bullshit. And do not even talk about yourself like that. Got it? I don’t care if self-deprecating humor has always been your thing. You’ve worked really hard to be where you are and make it through something tough. Don’t talk shit about yourself.”

I trill my lips. “Fine. Now stop being sappy.”

He kicks my leg under the table. “If you insist. Now, I made you garlic bread. Where’s my dessert?”

I smile in relief. My therapist would tell me I need to take compliments like that and believe them, but I’m not in therapy because I have my shit together, so I’ll continue to avoid that topic and suck at taking compliments.

I get up and grab my bag, then pull out two cookie sandwiches from the coffee place downtown. They’re both chocolate chip M&M cookies with frosting in between. Vanilla for me, chocolate for him.

“I love you.”

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