Page 27 of Chef's Kiss

“Yes,” I say. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I yell, and he slides the huge princess cut diamond on my finger, and it fits perfectly. I couldn’t get it off if I wanted to, and I’m sure that’s the idea. Not even to wash the dishes, which I’m looking forward to after the two of us have fun in the kitchen making up meals for our children with the one ingredient we got when we found each other. Love.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you.”

“Free pumpkin spice lattes on the house!” that barista yells, to the cheers and screams of the other patrons.

I don’t know if they’re yelling for free coffee or for me, but it doesn’t matters. All that matters is him, us, and this.

And this is forever. Always.

EPILOGUE

Christian

One year later

“Hurry, you’re gonna miss it,” Charlotte calls out to me from the living room, where she’s cuddled up under a blanket on an unseasonably cold night.

“Coming,” I yell into the living room, carrying my own twist on Berco’s Billion Dollar Popcorn, the most expensive popcorn in the world. It’s the creme dela creme of popcorn, made of organic sugar for caramel, Vermont Creamery, Laeso which is the world’s most expensive salt, Nielsen Massey Bourbon Vanilla and 23-karat edible gold flakes.

“Oh my, you didn’t,” she says, sitting up on the couch when she sees it.

“Oh, I did,” I say, placing the popcorn down on the coffee table as I run to grab a Coke for me and a Pepsi for her. We’re alike in so many ways, except when it comes to our sodas. But that’s what life’s all about, right? We balance each other out, and I sure need some balance, according to her, because I’m still a savage who’s obsessed with her a year later.

The opening credits roll as I jump over the top of the couch and onto my seat just in time for the eleventh anniversary episode of Chef’s Kiss to air, but the eleventh anniversary episode is a lot different than the tenth.

Whereas the tenth was a celebration of my work, and my announcement of my engagement, the eleventh anniversary is all Charlotte. I’m more of the “mixer man” as I like to joke, just kind of stirring stuff and basically looking like a security guard in the backdrop while she has fully taken the lead.

“You’ve still got your chef apron on,” she says, nudging me as she grabs a popcorn and throws it in the air.

I grab her around the shoulders, pulling her in for a big hug, which also allows me to snatch the kernel out of the air with my oversized tongue that she’s nicknamed “Christian’s Twister.” It’s kind of a tongue-twister, but what it really is is a tornado underneath the sheets, whenever I want my wife’s sticky goodness, which is at least once a day. I swear it’s the fountain of youth and I have to drink from her pussy to stay sane.

“You’re cheating!” she yells as I gobble the kernel in front of her, basking in my victory snatch.

“All is fair in love and war,” I say.

“Thankfully for us there’s only been love.”

“Damn right,” I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek and then toss up a kernel for her. “Speaking of love, just imagine how much we’re going to have when you eventually get pregnant one day.”

“Hey, I don’t remember filming this part,” she says, pointing to the TV. And I don’t either, wondering how that got filmed, and on the air, without me knowing, let alone my approval. I always watch the film first, making sure my wife looks her best in the final edit, and that she’s not accidentally showing too much skin when she reaches, twists, and turns with all the stirring, sauteing, and spatuling…yeah, it’s a word, or at least one that we use…and everything else she’s doing.

“Viewers, you’ve been with both of us through this journey, and I just want you to know that a new chapter in Christian and I’s journey is about to begin. We’re filming this part without him knowing so when he sees this, he’s going to be surprised just like everyone else around the world. Heck, if I know my man he’ll probably have made popcorn and have a couple sodas out and ready for us.”

“What the?” I say, as she playfully elbows me in the ribs. “Told ya! I know you better than you know yourself.”

“And that surprise is,” her TV self says as she says, staring right into the camera, followed by the cardinal sin in TV, dead air…but in this case it sure builds the suspense. “I’m pregnant with our first child.”

“You’re…?”

I turn to her and she nods. “Yep, it’s true.”

I reach down and ever so softly put my hand on her stomach.

“It’s too early to feel anything, goofy. But yeah…we’ve got a bun in the oven,” she says to me as she says the same thing simultaneously on the TV screen.

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