Page 52 of A Me and You Thing
I place the pan in the three-hundred-degree oven and set the timer for three hours. The recipe says three to four hours, so I’ll check it at three, just to be on the safe side.
The girls and I watch another movie and play with Legos. The house smells absolutely amazing and feels so homey with the roast in the oven. I think I will continue to improve my domestic skills. Sawyer will be so impressed.
When the timer goes off, I excitedly open the oven and all of my high hopes are dashed. What happened? What went wrong? I stare at the crispy, dry piece of meat with disappointment. I tap my fingers on the counter as I think about what to do. It doesn’t look anything like the moist and juicy picture in the recipe. The veggies look dehydrated. The meat looks... well, dead. Like beef jerky on steroids. It’s a crispy critter that looks as appealing as eating a piece of rubber.
I think it just needs a little water. Yeah, that’ll do the trick.
I fill a glass with tap water, open the oven, and pour it into the glass pan.
There’s a loud popping sound and a BANG. It’s so fast, I don’t even know what has happened as I stand there stunned.
And that’s the moment when Sawyer walks in the door.
Of course. Someone’s always watching during my finer moments in life. It’s some sort of universal law. It’s probably written somewhere.
“Bree, are you okay?” he says. “Don’t move. There’s glass everywhere. Where are the girls?”
“Watching a movie in the living room. They’re fine.”
That’s not a tear running down my cheek. No, it’s NOT. It’s just sweat, because it’s hot standing in front of the sweltering oven.I’m not going to cry. I’m not.
“What happened?”
“I added a little water to the pot roast. It was dry. It needed more moisture. The pan just disintegrated before my eyes. I mean, it’s gone. Just like that. I don’t even know what just happened.”
My once lovely roast and veggies are sitting on the oven rack amidst a shower of broken glass, looking sad and forlorn. I won’t mention that they looked that way before the pan broke into a million pieces.
“Cold water?”
“I guess it was cold. It was just from the tap.”
“You added cold water to a hot glass pan?” he asks, his tone implying I’m a total idiot.
“Was that wrong?”
“Um... yeah. Thermal shock. It happens when... never mind, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I’m scared to move. The glass pan literally exploded. Small shards are everywhere. Luckily, instinct made me close my eyes or else I would probably be making a trip to the emergency room right now. Maybe even be blinded for life.
The things I do for love.
Sawyer turns the oven off and closes the door. “We’ll deal with that mess later.” He grabs the broom and sweeps up most of the glass so that we can move around without stepping on it.
Then he faces me. It’s the closest we’ve ever been. My heart races at his proximity.
“You okay?” he asks, studying my face.
“I think so. Nothing hurts.” Except my pride.
“Hold still while I check for glass on your clothes.”
I hear the girls singing along to their movie, blissfully unaware of what has happened in the kitchen.The Great Roast Disaster.It’s the event of the year. I’ll never live this down. I’m sticking to grilled cheese from now on. Campbell’s soup. Mmm, mmm good. Homemade is overrated anyway.
Sawyer carefully brushes the glass off my clothes, removing a few large pieces that acted like shrapnel from a bomb. He’s inspecting every inch of me. My chest rises and falls as I take a shaky breath.
This is certainly one way to get close to him. Let’s just say I don’t think it’s the most ideal way.
He stands and faces me again, examining my cheeks, forehead and hair. Then he looks directly in my eyes. “Glad your eyes are okay,” he whispers.
