probably just being paranoid. I'm thinking about this too much. It doesn't have to be difficult or weird. We can be friends.
He mentioned that he would come over this afternoon so I spend the morning making chocolate chunk cookies and an apple pie because it was always his favorite. I've been cooking a lot since I came back. I never cooked much for Gabe. He wasn't into southern cooking and well, that's what Nana taught me. Most of the time when he was home we would go out to stuffy restaurants and he'd spend the entire time talking to other stuffy suits who were dining at the nearby tables. It was always so cold and impersonal.
Now that I'm back, it feels good to dive back into Nana's old recipes. It's relaxing and it calms me. I'll never be able to perfect them the way that she did, but it still makes me feel closer to her. It’s as if I can feel her here with me. Sometimes I get the urge to just start talking to her while I cook. But then I feel like a crazy person and stop myself. But it would be nice, to just tell her everything I've done since she's been gone. To apologize to her for everything I haven't. But she's not here. It's just me and my memories.
I take the pie out of the oven and let it cool on the counter. Even I have to admit that it looks pretty. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of it and smile. Nana always took pictures of food. The family photo album is full of pictures just like this.
As promised, Cole shows up in the afternoon carrying his bag of handy tools. He's wearing low slung jeans and a baseball cap. He looks so good in a baseball cap. I've always loved the shadows it casts across his face. I love it more when he's working on something and flips it backwards. That was always my favorite. Turns out it still is.
"Did you make pie?" he asks, his eyes landing on the counter. I smile at the excited glint in his eyes.
"I did. Just for you. To say thank you for everything you've been doing to help me out. You've gone out of your way for me and I want you to know I appreciate it."
He gives me his easy smirk and sets down his bag. "I'm more than happy to help out. You don't owe me a thing, but thank you for the pie. Feel free to keep making those." He leans down to take in the scent and it makes me feel good to know that I've done something that makes him happy.
"So what are you fixing today?" I ask quietly.
"I thought I'd replace those boards on the back steps for you. I don't want you getting a splinter if you decide to go out there without any shoes on," he answers easily.
"Aren't you thorough?"
He waves me off. "Henry and I came out here before you got home and made a list of everything we wanted to do. He just wants to make sure it's perfect for you. I'm happy to help get it that way."
"It's not necessary though. You two are being awfully nitpicky."
"Do I have to remind you what your father does for a living? You think he's going to have his little girl living in a place that isn't perfect?" he teases.
"Perfect isn't everything," I say before I can filter the thought.
He cocks his head in that questioning way he does and I bite my lip hoping he lets it go. Thankfully, he does and I release the tense breath I was holding.
Cole excuses himself to pull his truck around back so he can have easy access to the lumber he brought with him. I grab a couple of waters and meet him on the back porch. I set them down and then go to help him carry stuff up to the deck.
"You don't have to help, Emery," he says, smiling down at me as I load my arms with two 2 x 4s.
"I want to," I reply, shifting the boards in my arms. They are heavier than I anticipated.
"You got that? Maybe you should just take one." I throw him a determined look and he throws his arms up in surrender laughing. "Stupid thought. Carry on."
Once we have the boards loaded up on the deck, I settle on one of the chairs to watch him work. He's precut each board, so he just has to remove the old ones and replace them. His muscles
He mentioned that he would come over this afternoon so I spend the morning making chocolate chunk cookies and an apple pie because it was always his favorite. I've been cooking a lot since I came back. I never cooked much for Gabe. He wasn't into southern cooking and well, that's what Nana taught me. Most of the time when he was home we would go out to stuffy restaurants and he'd spend the entire time talking to other stuffy suits who were dining at the nearby tables. It was always so cold and impersonal.
Now that I'm back, it feels good to dive back into Nana's old recipes. It's relaxing and it calms me. I'll never be able to perfect them the way that she did, but it still makes me feel closer to her. It’s as if I can feel her here with me. Sometimes I get the urge to just start talking to her while I cook. But then I feel like a crazy person and stop myself. But it would be nice, to just tell her everything I've done since she's been gone. To apologize to her for everything I haven't. But she's not here. It's just me and my memories.
I take the pie out of the oven and let it cool on the counter. Even I have to admit that it looks pretty. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of it and smile. Nana always took pictures of food. The family photo album is full of pictures just like this.
As promised, Cole shows up in the afternoon carrying his bag of handy tools. He's wearing low slung jeans and a baseball cap. He looks so good in a baseball cap. I've always loved the shadows it casts across his face. I love it more when he's working on something and flips it backwards. That was always my favorite. Turns out it still is.
"Did you make pie?" he asks, his eyes landing on the counter. I smile at the excited glint in his eyes.
"I did. Just for you. To say thank you for everything you've been doing to help me out. You've gone out of your way for me and I want you to know I appreciate it."
He gives me his easy smirk and sets down his bag. "I'm more than happy to help out. You don't owe me a thing, but thank you for the pie. Feel free to keep making those." He leans down to take in the scent and it makes me feel good to know that I've done something that makes him happy.
"So what are you fixing today?" I ask quietly.
"I thought I'd replace those boards on the back steps for you. I don't want you getting a splinter if you decide to go out there without any shoes on," he answers easily.
"Aren't you thorough?"
He waves me off. "Henry and I came out here before you got home and made a list of everything we wanted to do. He just wants to make sure it's perfect for you. I'm happy to help get it that way."
"It's not necessary though. You two are being awfully nitpicky."
"Do I have to remind you what your father does for a living? You think he's going to have his little girl living in a place that isn't perfect?" he teases.
"Perfect isn't everything," I say before I can filter the thought.
He cocks his head in that questioning way he does and I bite my lip hoping he lets it go. Thankfully, he does and I release the tense breath I was holding.
Cole excuses himself to pull his truck around back so he can have easy access to the lumber he brought with him. I grab a couple of waters and meet him on the back porch. I set them down and then go to help him carry stuff up to the deck.
"You don't have to help, Emery," he says, smiling down at me as I load my arms with two 2 x 4s.
"I want to," I reply, shifting the boards in my arms. They are heavier than I anticipated.
"You got that? Maybe you should just take one." I throw him a determined look and he throws his arms up in surrender laughing. "Stupid thought. Carry on."
Once we have the boards loaded up on the deck, I settle on one of the chairs to watch him work. He's precut each board, so he just has to remove the old ones and replace them. His muscles
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