“Cross my heart. Mussels?”
“No! Just stay away from seafood.”
Fitz points at the salmon he’s in the middle of preparing. “Does that mean you don’t want the dinner I’m slaving away cooking right now?” He looks at me with huge brown puppy eyes. His eyes are almost the same brown as the millions of freckles on his face.
“I like salmon. And you’re not slaving away. I offered to cook, remember?”
“You can cook tomorrow. Ask Vanessa if Beatrice is a vegetarian before you forget. I don’t have long to plan the most romantic meal ever.”
“You have a week.”
“Exactly.”
I shake my head and send my sister a text with Fitz’s questions.
Vanessa:I’ll ask. Where are you planning on taking her?
Me:Dinner here.
Vanessa:You’re cooking?
I debate whether to tell her Fitz is cooking or lie. She’ll probably think it’s weird that Fitz is cooking, which it isn’t. It’s normal to cook a Valentine’s meal for your best friend and his blind date. Isn’t it?
Vanessa:Not vegetarian and no allergies. Are you sure it’s a good idea to cook? Why not take her somewhere romantic?
Me:It’s probably too late to book somewhere.
Vanessa:Nonsense. How about Thai?
Me:I’ve got a plan. It’s under control.
Vanessa:Have you roped Fitz into cooking for you?
Me:No.
She sends a thoughtful emoji, which tells me she is unconvinced.
Vanessa:Are you doing anything Saturday evening?
Me:No. Why?
Vanessa:Come over for dinner?
Vanessa:Bring Fitz along, seeing as you’re joined at the hip.
Me:No, we’re not.
Vanessa:Tell him to bring cakes for dessert.
Me:That’s the real reason you’re inviting him, isn’t it? Free cakes.
Vanessa:Maybe I should invite him and leave you to fend for yourself?
Me:Love you.
Vanessa:See you on Saturday.
Fitz puts the salmon and asparagus into the oven and then gives me a triumphant smile. “All done. We’ve got fifteen minutes.”
