Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I nod slowly. “That does sound good.”
“If you really want to make something substantial, do a mac and cheese with a breadcrumb topping, a butternut squash risotto, or a rice pilaf with cranberries. But you don’t have to replace the meat,” she explains. “And you definitely don’t need to make it look like meat. Most of us aren’t craving things that look like meat. Personally, I can’t stand those fake beet burgers that ‘bleed.’ It’s just wrong.”
“That does sound disgusting,” I say.
“And look, the fact that you’re thinking about this and making sure your guests have a variety of things to eat? That says a lot.”
Good. I’m glad. I want Luna and Sabrina both to know I’m thinking about them. That I care about their choices, and that it’s a privilege to be able to accommodate them, not a pain in the ass. But I also would never have known this.
“Thanks, Charlie. I would never have thought of that,” I admit.
Charlie squeezes my shoulder. “That’s why you brought me.” Then she points at me, shooting me a searing stare. “Also, don’t you dare forget pumpkin pie. No soul alive can resist it.”
“True.”
“Do you think you can make one?”
I scoff. “I can buy the fuck out of one.”
“That works too.” Then she grins mischievously. “But there’s one more thing most herbivores love above everything else.”
This is going to be good. “Tell me. I need to know all your secrets.”
“Are you ready for it?” she asks, lowering her voice.
“I sure am.”
She leads me toward the beauty aisle.
I stare at her, baffled, as she picks out several face masks, cruelty-free shampoo, and some ethically sourced face serum. I glance down at my cart, then back at her. “For them?”
She bursts out laughing. “Oh, no. These are for me. Service fee for today.” She winks, then tosses a few extra face masks into the cart. “But I bet they’d like them too.”
I laugh. She was always the sneaky one.
As we wander down some more aisles, I let out a sigh of relief. Charlie hasn’t cross-examined me and I’ve gotten what I came for.
But I’ve definitely spoken too soon. When I’m grabbing some edamame, she says, “So I’m guessing if you’re making food for her, that crush might not be so unrequited?”
It’s like an icy dose of cold water. My grip tightens on the handle of the cart, and I focus way too hard on the bag of edamame in my hand. “What are you talking about?”
She laughs at me. “It’s funny how you play clueless.”
“No idea what you mean.”
“Fair enough. You are often naturally clueless. But I think in this case, we both know exactly what I mean.” She levels me with a shrewd stare. “You’re shopping specifically for her. Is this because of your unrequited crush, or has it turned into something more?”
I couldn’t be more transparent, but I’ve got to find a way around this. “It’s for Luna. And Sabrina is a great nanny, so I really want to make her feel at home. She hasn’t had a lot of that,” I say, and that’s the truth and the whole damn truth. “Her parents didn’t even invite her for Thanksgiving. Her dad is a grade-A asshole. The least I can do is cook for her.”
Charlie’s teasing expression vanishes, and she sets a hand on her chest. “You kind of made me tear up a little bit with that. That’s really sweet.”
“She deserves some good in her life. You and I know what it’s like to have a dad who’s let us down, but at least we have a great mom and an amazing stepdad. We have Miles and we have Birdie. And we have each other too.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, sighing in a contented, relaxed way. “We do. We really do,” she says.
“One hundred percent,” I say quietly as I pat her hair, grateful she knows she can count on me. That she’s always known that, since it’s the same for me with her. And with my brother. I’m lucky like that—so damn lucky.
She lifts her face and says, “On that note I need to grab some bread. I’ll be right back.”
“I assume that bread is on me too?”
“You know it,” she says with a gotcha grin.
Once she’s out of sight, I glance around the corner to make sure she’s gone, then double back to the frozen section and grab some Popsicles.
Well, Sabrina did say she wanted them, and what she wants, she gets.
On the team jet the next night, after barely eking out a win at home, I sink down in my cushy seat in the dim light of the aircraft, figuring I’ll get some quiet time to watch a few more of these cooking videos.
My brother’s in the row in front of me, already absorbed in a book—knowing him, I’m guessing it’s an allegory about the state of the world. Anything to make his big brain bigger.