Page 30 of Picking Pismo

“Is that how you feel about your divorce?” asked Alexis. “Do you want to try again? You know, get married.”

Her question stopped him in his place. Sweat started to gather in the small of his back. “I—” David stammered. “I?—”

Alexis shrugged. “Claire told me you were divorced.”

“I am.” David pushed the cart forward, mainly to avoid looking at Alexis directly. “I made a mistake. I’m learning to move on from it. I guess that’s part of my life. I messed up, and I’m trying to make things right again.”

Alexis ran her hand along the cans of vegetables as they walked toward the checkout. “You’ll get it right this time around.” She shrugged. “You probably just didn’t pick the right person. I think marriage number two for you will be better.”

“I sure hope so,” said David. “It can’t be worse than marriage number one.”

“If you married my sister,” Alexis paused, staring directly at David, “you’d get it right. She’s the best person I know. Even if I grumble and give her a hard time. I know she’ll always be there for me.”

David’s back stiffened at the mention of marrying Claire. Marriage? He wasn’t anywhere close to entertaining those thoughts. He sure hoped Claire wasn’t either because they had only just begun dating.

His throat grew tight. David gulped. “Claire is amazing. I can’t argue with you there.”

With a huge grin, Alexis replied, “She’s the best, but don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want it going to her head.”

David made a crossing motion over his heart.

They joined the checkout line. With Alexis’s help, they loaded the ingredients onto the conveyor belt. David was grateful for something to occupy his hands and mind. After purchasing everything, they drove back to her house.

When they arrived, Claire came out and helped them carry the groceries inside. After unpacking the contents onto the kitchen counter, David kindly walked Claire out of the kitchen.

“Please,” Claire pleaded, “can’t I sit here and watch? I promise not to get in the way.”

David wanted nothing more than to be near Claire, but this wasn’t up to him. This project was something for him and Alexis to bond over. Glancing over his shoulder into the kitchen, David said loud enough for Alexis to hear. “It’s up to the cook.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you think Alexis? Do we kick her out or let her stay?”

Opening the spice cupboard, Alexis shook her head. “Kick her out.” Her voice softened a tad. “David and I wanted to make you dinner. Sometimes you need to let people do nice things for you.”

David smirked. “You heard the woman.” Kissing Claire on the cheek, he put both hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the hallway. “You look beautiful by the way, but sorry, I have to kick you out.”

Claire made a pouty face. “I can’t believe this.” Fiddling with her hair, Claire finally whipped it over her shoulder. The strands cascaded down her back.

David’s stomach pooled with warmth. “Go relax.” David hugged her. “I promise I’ll come find you once we put the food in the oven. Then we can all watch a show together while they bake.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she released their embrace, “see you soon.” Then she wandered out of the kitchen.

Alexis rubbed her hands together. “I thought she’d never leave.” Then she peered at the ingredients lined up on the counter and put a hand on her hip. “Now what?”

David chuckled then slapped his hand across the slick, cool countertop. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Alexis’s eyes dilated. “What are we going to do? I kicked Claire out of the kitchen because I thought we had this.” She gnawed on a fingernail. “I was obviously so wrong.”

Then David held up his pointer finger. “We do have this. That’s what a recipe is for, right?”

“Let’s hope.” Alexis grabbed the cookbook off the counter, opening it to the correct page.

After poring over the instructions, David and Alexis started cooking the chicken over the stovetop. Multiple times, David rechecked the next steps of the recipe. They fumbled their way through it and somehow managed to get the enchiladas into the Pyrex pan.

Before putting them into the oven, Alexis glanced down at the pan. “These don’t look anything like Mom’s.” Her shoulders drooped. “They look awful.”

“But maybe, they’ll taste like them,” replied David.

“I’m not holding out any hope.” Alexis opened the oven, placing the enchiladas inside. She started the timer.

“I have faith they’re going to be delicious,” said David with a tad too much enthusiasm.

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