I should’ve asked Samantha while she was here.
My eyes widen as I think of sending her a message, and shutting the freezer, I go to get my phone from my bedroom.
I only have Samantha and Augusto’s numbers and haven’t used the device much since I got it.
I type out a text while I walk back to the kitchen.
Yuki: What does Augusto like to eat?
Before I can exit the chat, I see that she reads the message.
Samantha: Comfort foods like mac and cheese, casseroles, and chicken pot pie, spaghetti and meatballs, garlic butter steak and potatoes. He’s not fussy, but if you really want to make his day, give him gooseberry pie and vanilla ice cream.
Yuki: Thank you.
I look at the time on my phone, and seeing it’s already after four, I hurry to the kitchen and take a pack of ground beef from the freezer. Placing the frozen meat in hot water so it can defrost quickly, I continue making the spaghetti and sauce.
When I check on the meat, I let out a breath of relief when it’s ready. I follow the recipe I was taught to the last letter, and when I’m done browning the meatballs and have them simmering in the sauce, I wipe the back of my hand over my forehead.
Getting hot, I take off my sweater and fold it neatly before placing it on a stool. I adjust my T-shirt and clean the kitchen as much as possible while making sure the food doesn’t burn.
Movement catches my eye, and the instant my sight lands on Augusto, I freeze.
For an intense moment, we stare at each other, then he says, “Something smells nice.”
“Dinner,” I whisper as I look at the man I married three weeks ago.
Slowly, he comes into the kitchen, his eyes drifting over the length of my body. “How do you feel?”
“Better.” I swallow hard when he stops close enough to touch me.
Nervous, I glance at the simmering meatballs, and not able to keep an eye on them, I switch off the stove.
“You look good, Yuki,” Augusto says, and my eyes fly back to his face.
My breaths begin to speed up as I whisper, “Thank you.”
He tilts his head, and it feels as if he’s trying to look deep into my soul. “Are you going to have dinner with me?”
I nod, and unable to stand still for a second longer, I dart past him to get to the cupboard containing the plates. It’s a bit high, and as I stand on my tiptoes, Augusto’s arm suddenly appears next to me. I yank away and dart to the side to put some distance between us.
With his eyes on me, he takes two plates out and sets them down on the counter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Everything feels tense as I nod and reach for the plates. I’m constantly aware of Augusto as I dish up some of the spaghetti and meatballs.
Remembering the Parmesan cheese, I hurry to the fridge, and when I don’t find any, my teeth worry my bottom lip.
“What are you looking for?” Augusto asks as he takes a seat at the island.
“Parmesan. I was taught it always goes over spaghetti and meatballs.”
“I’ll make sure to get some.” He looks at the tea set in the middle of the island and asks, “Do you like it?”
“Very much. Thank you.”
I watch as Augusto pulls my plate closer to where he’s seated before gesturing at the stool beside him.
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach when I take a seat, my body tensing from being so close to him.
