Page 103 of You Chive Me Crazy
Me:I think it’s better if we talk in person.
Zoe:Okay. I’ll be there.
Me:Don’t eat anything.
Zoe:Sounds good. I need your address.
I texted her my address, then focused on the things I had to do before she arrived, all the while trying to keep myself from exploding from the excitement.
I had exactly three hours to get the ingredients for dinner, tidy up the house, and then take a shower. Considering I could see the grocery store from my front window, the odds were in my favor that I could get everything done before she got there if I didn’t get distracted.
I wanted everything to be perfect for Zoe. I was in love with her, and I was going to show her just how much.
First, I needed to find the exact recipe I was thinking of preparing. After ten minutes of searching online, and making sure I had the right one, I quickly wrote a list of ingredients I would need for our special dinner. Then I dashed across the street to the grocery store, and the flower shop next door to it. Two flower arrangements would do the trick to add some color and happiness to the house.
Next, I focused on my house. My place wasn’t dirty, but it wasn't exactly spotless either. I started by vacuuming, then wiping down the counters, cleaning the bathroom, and making sure the bedroom was presentable for a tour. Nothing else. Luckily, I had a cleaning service twice a month, so it wasn’t like the house was in awful shape to begin with.
Now, I was ready to prepare the meal. I preheated the oven and started boiling water for the noodles. I then mixed all the ingredients together in a large bowl and poured them into a baking dish, ready to go in the oven soon.
After my shower, I rushed downstairs, stuck the casserole in the oven, just as I heard a knock. Luckily, I had clothes on, although opening the door in a towel may not have been such a bad idea.
I took a deep breath and opened the front door, revealing Zoe standing on my doorstep with a bottle of wine in her hand and a hesitant look on her face.
“Hey there,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “Come in.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Zoe stepped past me and entered the living room, looking around at the khaki green walls and the cream leather sectional with the earth-tone pillows. She smiled when she saw the arrangement with wild flowers on the coffee table. Then she did a double-take when she saw my baby grand piano.
“I like your place,” she said, nodding, then handing me the bottle of wine. “And this is for you.”
“For us,” I corrected. “We need to celebrate.”
Zoe creased her forehead, studying me. “Your job in New York?”
I nodded. “Yes, and the fact that I will only be there eight weeks.” I grinned, waiting for her to react to the news, but she just looked confused, staring at me like I had been speaking French.
“What do you mean?” Zoe asked. “Eight weeks to find a place to live?”
I took a couple of steps toward her. “Eight weeks per year. The other ten months I will live in California, near the woman I love, Zoe Leilani Bell, who is invited to join me in New York for as long as her work schedule allows.”
She blinked twice, her eyes filling, and before I could react, she lunged toward me and crushed me with a hug, practically knocking me over and laughing through her sobs. I had never held onto a person so tightly before, breathing in her scent, enjoying her body against mine, knowing nothing was going to separate us.
“The last twenty-four hours have been hell,” I whispered into her ear.
Zoe pulled away from our embrace, glancing up at me with red eyes. “I was so scared. It was worse than being kicked out of culinary school and losing you the first time. I didn’t want to lose you again.”
“You’re not going to,” I said, leaning down and kissing her on the lips just as the oven beeped. “And I’m sorry, but I also don’t want you to miss the opportunity for something special to eat.” I gestured to the kitchen. “I need to get that. And don’t look. I have a surprise for you.”
I pulled the casserole out of the oven and set it on top of the range.
Zoe inhaled a few times, then froze. “No, you didn’t. That is not possible.” She wiggled her nose a few more times, her eyes going wide. “Did you make tuna noodle casserole?”
So much for the surprise.
I just nodded, grateful I could find her favorite recipe from the Betty Crocker cookbook I’d given her. The look on her face made it worth it.
Zoe wiped her eyes. “You’re in trouble, mister. You have this habit of ruining my make-up.”
