“Okay,” I say hesitantly, pointing. “But you’re burning the mushroom caps.”

“Crap. I just need a drink, maybe? To help me focus.” Robbie takes a deep breath and stretches out his arms. “Maybe a bit of rosé?”

“I’ll bring some over right away,” I tell him.

“Rosé, right away, for Robbé,” he sings cheerfully. “I’m down for that. Anyday!”

I smile, glad to see him back to his old self.

“Miss Willow, we need you over here,” calls out one of the waitresses. “Customers are arriving.”

“Coming,” I call out, patting Robbie on the back for support, one last time. “You’ll get through this.”

“I don’t know, girl. But once I get a little bit of wine in me, I’m sure that I’ll cook you up a storm.”