29
Sam
“You’re good at this.”I watched Tiffany as she poured us both another cocktail of her design.Campari, vermouth, coffee, chocolate bitters.Delicious.
“I’ve done it before.”She threw a wink over her shoulder.
We’d taken to testing out recipes on each other.Creating was a habit I was out of practice in, and Tiffany was a good sounding board, blunt to a fault and enthusiastic when she tried something she enjoyed.
“No, I meant, watching you work.It’s clear you enjoy it, and it’s fascinating to see what you choose and how you bring it together.Like I’m watching a show.”
A soft mewl sounded from the corner, where Luna had curled up in an empty cardboard box.The new bed I’d gotten her sat pristine and unused beside it.Tiffany detoured to scratch her behind her ears, and Luna ate up the attention, stretching and purring within her confines.
Suitably pleased with Luna’s response, Tiffany passed me a drink, then fell back against my sofa with her own in hand.“It’s funny you should say that.I’ve been thinking of starting something like a show.All about cocktails.”
“I’d watch it.You’d be a good teacher.Hell, you should be running your own place.”
“Maybe I should buy you out.”
“In another life, we could have been partners.”
“Fuck, can you imagine the two of us running a place together?”
I could.“You’re right.Forget I said anything.”
It was late, or early, depending on how you saw it, and we were more than halfway through at least one bottle of liquor.Which was to say, we were past tipsy, and I was more relaxed than I remembered feeling in a long time.
“Why bartending?”I asked her, curious.
“I kind of fell into it.Got really good at making my ex’s favorites in college.Found I loved it enough to teach myself as much as I could.”
“And how did you learn to make drinks like this?”I raised my glass.
“Lots of trial and error,” she laughed.
“It’s more than that.You have an incredible mind for flavors, and you’re not afraid to try, even if it doesn’t work.It’s not something everyone knows how to do.”
“Thanks.”She hummed pleasantly around a sip of her cocktail, and I liked that she was comfortable acknowledging her skills without being cocky.For someone so accomplished, she certainly had a habit of waving off praise more often than she accepted it.I’d misjudged that about her.What I’d initially seen as arrogance was now rearranging to something more akin to defiance and defensiveness.
She was playing absently with her hair, and I couldn’t help but smile at the picture of her, bare feet tucked underneath her, her back resting against the arm of the sofa as she faced me.She looked cozy.Comfortable.
It might be my favorite view of her yet.
“Actually, if you want to praise anyone, you should be thanking my Mimi.Cooking was serious business in my family, and she ruled her kitchen.Every time she visited, I’d spend hours just watching her bake and listening to her stories.Never saw her use a recipe.Had it all up here.”She tapped her temple.
After another long sip, I heard a soft little sigh, and Tiffany continued.“Being around her was where I felt safest.I used to be scared of storms—thunder, specifically—and Mimi would bribe me from my blankets with a cookie.She always made me want to be stronger.Braver.”
Clearly, these were fond memories for Tiffany.Her smile was deep and warm, and it gave her a glow.I wanted to soak in it.“Is she still around?”
“Not for a long time.”
“She’d be proud of you.”
“Don’t I know it.”Her inquisitive eyes meet mine.“What about you?”
“It’s going to sound silly, but I didn’t ever question myself when I was a kid.My parents had a wonderful ability to make us feel capable of anything.If anything, I was too sure of myself.”
“You?No,” she said, overdoing the sarcasm.
