He shrugs. “Hey, I didn’t know. I’ve been living probably the worst bachelor life you can think of for the last eight years. I didn’t want to assume anything.”
His expression is priceless.
“Now, first things first. We have to cut the chicken into tiny pieces and cook it. Oh, wait.” He holds up a finger.
He reaches for something. When I see him slip an apron over his head and tie it around his waist, I almost fall over from laughing. The black apron has a pig on it and says,Every butt deserves a good rub.
“Where did you find that?” I ask.
He shows it off by pulling his shoulders back. “Online. I had it overnighted.”
“On a Sunday?” I question.
“Yes, thank God for Amazon. You should have seen some of the ones I found.” He nudges his thumb to where his mom is sitting. “I couldn’t get those though. You know, with my mom here and all.”
“Oh, you have to give me at least one. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”
“Mom, cover your ears,” he shouts and then leans in. “One favorite was,Once you put my meat in your mouth, you’re gonna want to swallow.”
I nearly spit out my wine, covering my mouth so I don’t choke.
“And another one said,May I suggest the sausage?And it had a big finger pointing down.” His head tilts down with a shit-eating grin on his face, and his eyebrows are raised when he looks back to the camera.
“Andrew.” I can hear his mom laugh while pretending to be offended.
“Hey, I didn’t buy those! I’m the good guy who chose this one”—he comes close to the camera—“when I really wanted the other ones.” He winks.
We continue to cook together, his mom guiding him and then him guiding me. It’s obvious where Drew gets his laid-back personality. Getting to listen to the way his mom and him interact is the best part of my night. I can tell they have a good relationship, and it makes me like him that much more.
After our chicken is cooked, we remove it, putting it on a plate, and begin to cook some onions and garlic. Once that’s nice and fragrant, we put some pasta in the same pan along with chicken broth and cover the dish, letting the pasta cook.
Drew grabs his glass and stands back to relax and take a sip.
“Okay, Pamela, it’s our chance,” I say a little louder to make sure she can hear me.
She comes into view.
“Tell me about Drew as a little boy. Oh, and pictures. Yes, I need to see them!”
She giggles as she runs her fingers through his hair, fixing a strand that’s gone wild. “Our Andrew was always a ham. Any chance he could get in front of a camera, he did.” Her face beams with pride. “I’ll make sure to have everything ready for when you’re finally able to come over for dinner in person.”
“Oh no, you won’t,” Drew states firmly. “We don’t need to have Andrew flashbacks.”
“Yes, we do!” Pamela and I say at the same time.
He laughs into his wine as he shakes his head and takes a drink. “I’m in trouble with the two of you, aren’t I?”
“Yep!” we both say.
“Is this Sharee?” I hear a man’s voice say. He walks into the frame and waves.
“Sharee, this is my dad, Tom.”
“Hi, Tom.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sharee. Sorry I’m late to the party. I was watching the golf match.”
“From 2017.” Drew laughs.
