I wasn’t much of a cook before I came here, but I’m getting better at it every day. It’s easier when I have money and options, and the time to do it. Baking, though… that’s a lost cause.
Though, I have attempted everything in Grannie’s recipe box except the pecan pie. Maybe I should give it a go just to say I tried them all.
“Dinner!” I call.
Rhett and Gus come into the kitchen and take their plates. We get to the table and sit. I’ve taken one bite when the back door opens.
“Charlie?” I whisper.
Rhett leans back in his chair to look through the doorway. His eyes widen, making me think it’s not Charlie. A moment later, I see exactly who it is.
“Wade,” I say, getting up from my seat with a smile. “Are you staying for dinner?”
He watches me with a neutral look on his face. He doesn’t look mad… he seems cautious though.
“If that’s okay,” he says.
“Of course it’s okay. You can take my seat. Here,” I say, pulling out the chair. “Sit. I’ll get another plate.”
He hesitates before taking the seat and scooting in. I make another plate for myself, then sit in the last open spot, looking around the table and smiling.
This feels right.
“I’m glad you’re here, Wade,” I say. “Hopefully you like fish.”
“Fish is fine,” he says, picking up his fork and not saying anything about the fact I took a bite already.
I hadn’t thought of that when I offered it to him; I was just so excited that he was here.
We eat in silence, silverware scraping against porcelain. It all feels so good, so right, to sit at the table and eat dinner with the three of them.
“This is so nice,” I say. “Having dinner together.” I sigh. “Oh! But I didn’t make dessert. I’m sorry, Wade.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Dinner is good. Thank you.” He smiles, but it feels a little forced.
“We have all those snacks,” Rhett suggests. “They aren’t home-cooked, but Oreos are—”
“Oreos?” Wade says, perking up. “You have Oreos?”
“And something else,” Rhett says with a grin, getting up. “I forgot until just now.”
He goes to the fridge, pulling out the pop he got for him. He offers it to Wade.
Wade doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.
“Here,” Rhett says, urging the bottle toward him.
Wade finally takes the bottle and stares at it like it may explode.
“Grape,” he says, his voice low. “Did you get this for me?” He turns to me.
“Oh, I—”
“Yes,” Rhett says quickly. “We were at the square and I told her how much you liked it. She said we should get it for you. It was the last one, or I’m sure she’d have gotten more.”
“Th-thank you,” he says shakily.
Wade stares at the bottle for another moment before twisting the cap off and bringing it to his nose. He smells it, a small smile falling over his lips, and then he takes a sip.
