Page 44 of Married With Malice

I look at the meat. I confirm that it’s plumping up.

“That’s why you always want to put that well in the middle of each patty,” he says. “You just press your thumb in the middle, like I showed you.”

I have to admit, Big Man Bowie sounds far smarter when he’s talking about hamburgers.

Daisy floats over here to inspect our progress. “Ooh, those look yummy.”

“Almost ready to flip.” Big Man Bowie sticks a metal spatula in my hand.

“You wantmeto flip them?”

He grins. His hairnet slides back. “Sure.”

“You can do it, Anni,” Daisy cheers and starts clapping her hands.

Even Sabrina has left her seat at the counter to watch me wrangle with some beef patties. She stands on tiptoe in an effort to see over Daisy’s left shoulder.

This is a lot of pressure. The last time I felt this level of performance anxiety I was standing in an ice rink as a full arena watched.

Sliding the spatula under the nearest patty, I take a deep breath and flick the spatula over. The burger nearly rolls off the griddle but ultimately holds on. Repeating the process with the other five patties, I’ve grown fairly competent by the time I flip the last one.

“Great job,” Big Man Bowie says.

“I knew you could do it!” Daisy exclaims.

I’m starting to feel like a five-year-old who just learned how to write her name.

“Our Anni sure has a talent for handling the meat.” Sabrina slaps my back. Leave it to my little sister to imply there’s a link between smut and hamburgers.

Daisy pulls me over to the counter to mix the aioli ingredients together. After giving patient instructions on how to stir ingredients in a mixing bowl, she hands over the wire whisk. “Here, you can try.”

While I stir and Daisy hovers, Big Man Bowie starts slicing blocks of cheese.

“What do you and Luca like on your burgers?” he asks.

“Pepper Jack cheese on his,” I say as I whisk for all I’m worth. “No cheese on mine.”

“Where is Luca?” Daisy looks around the kitchen, possibly just realizing that he isn’t in the room.

“He’s, uh, working.”

This is true. At least, I think so. I’m being vague because I know very little about how Luca spends his days. The morning after we returned from Florida he dropped a kiss on my head and left at the crack of dawn to fulfill Richie Amato’s task list.

Six days later, his schedule stays the same. He wakes up early, he’s gone before I’ve even brushed my teeth and he arrives home long after dark. He always looks a little drained when he walks through the door. I don’t know how he has the energy to tear my clothes off and fuck like crazy for hours on end but he does.

Only when we’ve taken our fill of each other in half a dozen creative ways do we pass out in a tangle of sheets. The next day the pattern is the same. Luca stays gone while I’m here, unpacking boxes and inventorying wedding gifts and shopping online for random things to fill this empty house.

I may as well try some new hobbies, like learning how to cook. I’m not a fan yet, but maybe that will change if I keep whisking this aioli sauce for long enough.

Sabrina steals a slice of cheese from Big Man Bowie’s pile and decides to torment me. “I love how you blush whenever Luca’s name comes up.”

“I’m not blushing,” I grumble.

She chews on her cheese. “What will it take to get you to spill the raunchy honeymoon tea? I need all the vulgar details.”

“That’s enough stirring,” says Daisy and gently takes the bowl out of my hands to stop me from violently whisking the aioli to death.

“Do you guys go at it every single day?” Sabrina says. “You’re walking kind of funny. Maybe Luca should give you a break.”

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