Daddy in Waiting - The Forbidden Fun

Fortunately, class passes without a hitch. I find that if I focus fully on taking notes, I can completely ignore thoughts of my parents or of CryoFreeze. I enter an almost meditative state where all that exists is the sound of the professor’s voice and the scratch of my pen across paper. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it until the lecture’s over.

Then, I close my notebook and take out my phone. I dread finding a text from my parents, but relief spreads through my chest as I unlock it. It’s from Rob. Movie and dinner at my place? he asks. I’m cooking.

I’m smiling before I’ve even finished reading the message. I haven’t eaten anything Rob’s prepared since I was a kid, and the idea of him making something for me fills my stomach with butterflies.

Yes! What movie? I text back. It takes him a moment to reply, so I start walking to my next class. By the time I’ve settled in my seat, he’s responded.

You pick.

Ha. Typical Rob, always letting me have my way. I stare out the window at the leaves rustling across the sidewalk. I should choose something to match the season, but what? The movie comes to me almost immediately. Shaun of the Dead? I type.

Classic, he replies, followed with the thumbs-up emoji. I giggle. This is going to be fun. A scary movie curled up against his broad chest, those strong arms around me? I can’t wait.

Want me to bring something? Wine? Dessert?

Just your beautiful self, he writes back. And then a moment later, he adds, Ok. Maybe some cheesecake too.

I laugh. Will do, Captain.

The rest of the day passes by at a snail’s pace because I keep thinking of Rob and by the end of my last class, I’m ready to jump out of my skin. I hurriedly pack up my stuff and shove it into my bag. I’m the first person to charge into the cool autumn air outside, and take a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of crisp leaves and crackling fires. The sky has changed from cerulean blue to an orange and purple haze. This is perfect.

With a smile, I start up my car and head to the store. I find some cheesecake, a can of cherry pie filling, and a can of whipped cream. I check out quickly and then head back to my car, my heart beating fast as I pull up in front of Rob’s house. The world is just better with him in it. It always is.

I head to the front door with my bounty and try the knob. As expected, Rob left it open for me. I walk in, and the scent of something spicy and Italian hits me, and I breathe in appreciatively.

“That you, Pepper?” his deep voice calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I walk in and see that Rob’s created quite a mess in the kitchen. The sink is piled high with pots and pans, and there isn’t a surface that doesn’t have flour, oil, or some other cooking substance spilled across it. My man stands in the middle of the chaos, his dark green apron dusted with flour and splattered with red sauce. But he’s as gorgeous as ever. Under the apron, he has on a white t-shirt and black shorts, and his strong, toned legs look as sturdy as small trees. Those broad shoulders make me lick my lips and my tummy curls as I take in the sight of him. I want to see him like this for the rest of my life, I think to myself.

He turns to smile at me, flashing that white grin.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” I grin at him. “I have no idea where to put the cheesecake.”

“Oh, right.” He glances around and spots a clean sliver of countertop. He points to it. “Sorry for the mess, sweetheart. You can set it there.”

“No need to apologize. I’ll help you clean later, if you want.”

“You’re a godsend,” he says. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.” He returns to the covered pot simmering and gurgling on the stove and stirs its contents. Meanwhile, I set the bag on the counter and wash my hands. I reach for the can opener lying by the sink. It’s got oil splattered across it, but I use it to open the can of maraschino cherries anyway. They’re such a bright red color that I’m a little scared to eat them. Nothing in nature is this color; it has to be food dye. But I push the thoughts away.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells divine,” I say as I open the cheesecake. I pour most of the cherries on top of it, but only three-quarters of the can fits. Then I move to the pantry and grab some cinnamon from the top shelf and give the cake the lightest sprinkle of the spice.