“Eric and I are having truffle fettucine tonight, but I can be in to do that tomorrow night,” I said.
“Truffle fettucine?” Raye asked.
“It’s all in the truffle butter,” I told her like I knew what I was talking about, when I really didn’t, but I suspected it was a good guess.
“That sounds awesome. I need to share that with Cap. Do you have a recipe?” Raye asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“Focus,” Tex grunted.
“What’s this about mocha icebox cake?” he asked.
“I’m not sure it’s an actual cake. It’s some mocha mascarpone cream thing sandwiched with chocolate chip cookies that you chill for a long-ass time then eat.”
Eric swiped my mug out of my hand and put it on the coffee table.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that,” I snapped as he dragged me to the door. When we were out of it, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“To the grocery store.”
He threw the towel by the sink and asked, “What’s for dinner?”
“I whipped up some pastitsio.”
“You whipped up some pastitsio?”
I understood the emphasis.
The recipe had about five thousand ingredients, and making the béchamel produced a level of angst in me I never wanted to feel again.
But I thought I cracked it.
Only time would tell.
I’d forgotten because the girls were coming that night for dinner. I was making beef Stroganoff. And I was again a little nervous.
Just in time, I turned my head so when Logan bent in to give me a peck, I got it on my lips before the doorbell rang again and he was off to go answer it.
“He moved into the room, shrugging off his cut. He was tossing it to the end of the bed when he saw someone had put Carissa’s pie on the nightstand. Shoved the change, army knives, condom wrappers, and empty beer bottles out of the way and laid it there, fully intact, plastic wrap still on.
Like he couldn’t stop himself, he walked right to it, tore back the wrap and dug his fingers in at the side. A huge piece covering his curved fingers broke off in his hand.
He lifted it and shoved as much as he could get in his mouth.
And went still.
Every punch he’d landed. Every kick. Every time a man went down at his feet. Every time he’d sunk his cock into tight wet. The moment Kane Allen told him he was a Chaos recruit. The day they handed him his patch.
None of it tasted as good on his tongue as that pie.”
“All I gotta say to that is, life is shit, and it’s totally awesome, so if you can sort through your shit and think being with him through it is awesome, you best be pulling out the trifle bowl.”
This referred to making my famous chocolate pudding.
For Cap.
My trifle bowl saw a lot of action. Every Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas at Luna’s folks’ house. Every Oasis Square get-together. And nearly every girls’ night in at my place.
I once showed at our Oasis Square Independence Day Extravaganza without it, and I was shunned. Until I dashed out to Fry’s and did my best with the time I had (I liked my pud to cure overnight, it was still good, because what made it couldn’t be bad, but it wasn’t my best effort).