“But it’s so squishy!”
“Just put your hands in it!” I pushed his hand into the dish and he felt around for a second. “That’s right. Put them all the way down. Move the eggs around. Break them up.”
He squinted and squirmed. I pushed his hands in deeper and soon my hands were in the dish, too. We felt around and mixed the concoction together.
His eyes widened soon and watched.
“You feel that?” I asked. “Mix the pasta and cheese together like a soup. It should run right through your fingers. It’s soft. Imagine everyone eating it. Enjoying it. You want it to be tasty until the last serving is done.”
He smiled and looked at me.
“This is sexy!” he declared. “Cooking is sexy.”
“Yeah, right,” I said. “You try doing it three times a day and I’ll see what you say then.”
He hooked pinkies with me in the bottom of the pan and caught my eye when I looked at him to see what was going on.
“I’ll cook three times a day if you’re there,” he said.
I snatched my pinky away and giggled.
“What?” he asked. “Was that another line? Come on! Give a guy a break!”
After the macaroni and cheese cooled, we sat on the red chaise in our socks and ate half of a second pan we’d made just for us right out of the dish.
First, A. J. said he had to taste it to approve of my culinary skills. And then I had to taste it to be sure the people at the church wouldn’t laugh him right out of the door.
“Yeah, you’re wifey material,” he said, taking a spoonful of the top layer into his mouth.
“Wifey material?”
“Yeah. Confident. Strong. Beautiful. Can cook. You’re the type who makes a man get down on one knee.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of options in that area,” I said. “How many women do you know who would die to be here making macaroni and cheese with you?”
A. J. sat back and pretended to count, as he massaged his chin.
“Exactly,” I chuckled. “Too many to name.”
“Sure. There are a lot,” he said. “But a wise man doesn’t take what’s given to him. He wants to know what’s behind door number three.”
“Hum . . .” I nodded. “That sounds smart. I wish someone had told me that a long time ago.”
“So what about you? You’re always getting on me. What’s your situation, Miss Lady?”
My head quickly filled with anxiety. I realized that this was the first time someone I didn’t really know was asking me directly about what was happening in my life. I hadn’t decided yet how I would respond.
“The situation?” I stalled.
“Yes, your situation. What you keep saying you’re working through. Your marriage, right?”
“He’s filed for divorce. He cheated on me.” I dropped my spoon into the dish.
“Tough break, eh?”
“It’s definitely tough. But it’s getting easier,” I said. “I can’t believe I said that, but it is getting easier.”
“He’s the father of your two children?”