Page 9 of Honey Sunshine

“You know what I mean, a cute encounter between two people that leads to something more.”

I suppose it is a “cute-meet”—at least, that’s how I view it.Even now, I fight back a smile over last Friday’s shenanigans. “Mom, you need to stop watching all those sappy Hallmark movies.”

“Oh, hush. Let your mother live out her fantasy however she sees fit! Goodness, I hope you’re not like this with Zach,” she chides. I’m shaking my head silently at the clear bias already, wondering if this is how my sister felt when she first brought her boyfriend home.

“Thanks for worrying about me too, Mom,” I tease, letting the sarcasm slip into my voice.

The timer goes off and I put on my mittens, opening the stove to retrieve the honey-glazed salmon. Its sweet and savory smell instantly wafts through the air as I set it down, grabbing a lime to squeeze over it before adding cilantro.

“Are you cooking?”

“Yes.” Grabbing a spatula, I scoop up the salmon and lay it perfectly in a lunch box stuffed with quinoa, steamed broccoli, and carrots.

“On a Monday morning?”

“Yeah.”

I suppose that’s the good thing about being a business owner: the flexibility and control over my schedule that lets me do these things. Cooking lunch for my fake boyfriend definitely isn’t an expected perk, but it’s still a bonus.

“For Zach?”

“I’m planning to surprise him with it,” I answer without much thought while working on my plating.

It’s not until I’m satisfied that I realize my mistake, but by then it’s already too late.

“My boy is growing up so fast,” she says, and I resist the urge togroanin mortification, or correct her, while taking off my apron—I’m a fully grown man of thirty-seven years. “You’re trying to win his heart through his stomach, huh? You really are your father’s child. I tell you, one meal is enough to win his heart.”

“Win whose heart?”

I freeze instantly at the sound of Becky’s voice.

“Oh, Becky!” Mom exclaims. “Right on time, listen to this?—”

“And that’s my cue to go now,” I interject. “Love you. See you all this weekend!”

Before they can say anything else, I quickly end the call and release another long sigh.

Staring at the homemade meal momentarily, I can’t help but frown.

Truthfully, I haven’t even asked whether I can go to his office, so what possessed me to say that?

What had started as curiosity the other night soon turned into a genuinely drawn-to-him feeling, and each passing moment had made me more reluctant to end our conversation. I’d planned to use business as an excuse to see him today, but now it seems we really need to meet to discuss our plans for the weekend.

So why am I going the extra mile to cook for him when I could just take him out?

Will he enjoy it? Does he evenlikesalmon?

Will it be weird if I show up with a whole meal as a surprise?

More importantly, will he even want my company, or is it all in my head?

I didn’t think about it much before, but that’s all I’m focused on now because of Mom.

I feel more than nervous as I stand in my kitchen, packing the two lunch boxes. I remember being nervous the first time I asked my homeboy in high-school to be my prom date, but this... this is...

It’s a feeling I haven’t felt before, that’s for sure. And I do not like the fact that I can’t pin it down for what it is. What the fuck is this?

Whatever it is, I’m filled with the urge to get to the bottom of it.

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