Page 49 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
“I’ve got this if you need to rest.”
“Resting will give me way too much time to think.”
“And we don’t want that,” I teased. There. That sounded normal. “Do you know about our hot chocolate tradition?”
“No,” Charlie said. “I’ve never actually been here before.”
“Seriously?” At one point, Rosie had been renting the cabin out behind our backs to earn some money. I’d assumed she’d bring her friends down here as well.
“Rosie invited me a few times, but it never worked out with my schedule.” She watched me as I rinsed the rice. “This is kind of mesmerizing, watching you cook.”
I had to will the goose bumps not to pop up on my arms as she followed my every move. “The hot chocolate tradition is simple, but essential.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“Every day that we’re here on the island … we drink hot chocolate. Copious amounts.”
“Wow.” She nodded slowly. “That’s quite a tradition.”
I laughed. “We have every flavor the grocery store carries, plus some we’ve special-ordered, in that cabinet above the fridge. Why don’t you pick one out and get the kettle going?”
“What kind do you want?” She riffled through the stash. “Oh! White chocolate raspberry! Yum.” She looked up at me expectantly, and I forced a casual smile.
This was such a simple moment, but one I’d longed to share with someone for a long time. For years, I’d thought it would be me and Lily, but I couldn’t actually picture her here, puttering around the kitchen, content to hang out while I cooked. She never liked to stop moving and had a habit of always taking over for me. Being with Charlie was so effortless, which I’d known for years. But I hadn’t ever reallythoughtabout it. “I’ll do dark chocolate.”
She busied herself figuring out the electric kettle while I got the rice going on the stovetop. I was aware of her every move in the kitchenette around me. When she reached up high to get the mugs from the cupboard. When she slipped past me to grab the kettle and her shoulder rubbed against my back. Even the way she blew on the steam rising from her mug was fascinating.
To the point where I almost burned the risotto. I never burn my risotto. I cursed and pulled the pan away from the heat, turning it down quickly. I thought I’d saved it in time.
Charlie watched me as she sipped her cocoa.“Have you always loved cooking?” she asked after I’d gotten the heat to the right temperature and continued stirring the rice.
“No.” My shoulders relaxed as the risotto returned from the brink of death. This was one of the things I loved about cooking, especially familiar recipes. If you did all the right steps, everything worked out exactly as you expected. “In fact, I hatedit at first. When my mom got sick, we all took on different jobs around the house, and mine was cooking. I was so bad at it. Mom would try to teach me from the couch, but I still struggled.”
Those were some of my favorite memories. How Mom would assure me it was okay that my noodles were all stuck together in one huge clump. Or that my ground beef tasted like coal. “The more I cooked, the more I grew to love it. Especially when I realized how much I loved eating good food.” I patted my stomach, which was not quite as firm as it had once been.
“Would you ever do it as a job?” she asked. “Like open a restaurant.”
“Nah.” I’d considered it at one point, but I wouldn’t want to give up being on the ocean for the large part of my day. “I like it as a hobby. Takes all the pressure off when I want to try new things.”
“Hobbies. What are those?” she asked, only sounding half-joking.
“You have hobbies,” I said. “Like marrying your friend’s older brother.”
She laughingly threw her empty hot chocolate packet at me. It flitted downward, inches from where she tossed it. She let out an amused huff, picked it up, and attempted a second throw. This time it landed on the marinating salmon fillets, and a small amount of white chocolate power dusted the tops.
We both looked at it for a second.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said with a stricken expression. “I shouldn’t be silly when you’re trying to work. And now I’ve ruined the salmon.”
“Chocolate has never made anything worse.” I leaned close enough to gently touch her chin, where she had a speckle of chocolate foam.“In fact, I insist that you continue to be playful while I work.” Was this what they meant by the phrasein for a penny, in for a pound? Her playfulness was like sweet torture.But her worry, her quick apology? That was something else. Something that made me wish I’d punched Greg a second time.
I tried to tease her into being silly again, but her seriousness had returned for the rest of the evening. Greg had trained her to believe that a mistake was catastrophic. That everything wrong was her fault. I’d seen him do it to her, subtly, over the years, and it always triggered that red light in the back of my head that saidsomething isn’t right here.
I should have stepped in a long time ago. We all should have.
It was too late to do anything about the past, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t start helping her see how amazing she was now.
In a friendly, totally platonic, older brother kind of way, of course.
