Page 30 of Considering Us

“Doesn’t sound like something your mom would approve of,” I said with trepidation. I didn’t know where the line was regarding what I could say about Adrienne’s parents, so everything felt like a test.

Adrienne scoffed. “He only did that when she was gone. She prefers him to subsist on a kale salad diet—hold the dressing. But enough about them. They make me miserable. How do I make cookies?”

I made myself temporarily forget whose child she was and launched into all of it: why the butter and eggs had been sitting on the counter in advance, why I liked using organic sugar in the recipe, how I had come to the conclusion that both semisweet and white chocolate chips belonged in these cookies, and why I chilled balls of dough on the baking sheets for thirty minutes before popping them into the oven. “I hated my science classes in high school and college, but I love the science behind baking. This makes sense to me,” I relayed to her. “And the results are far more delicious than anything I ever made in a lab.”

Once the dough was prepared, Adrienne took the small ice cream scoop and began carefully dropping scoops on the parchment-lined cookie sheet. “Does this look okay?” she asked.

“You got it,” I said. “What do you want to make next week? It’ll be right before Midsy, so it’s going to be a little crazy, but if you want to come in for some of the preparations, I’m happy to have you here.”

Adrienne shifted a bit on her feet and glanced at me with an air of nervousness. “Could this be an internship?”

I sensed something very uneasy from her. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I guess so. I could help you write it up if you want, but I’ll be honest: I have no idea what I’m doing. Any particular reason why you want to classify it as an internship?”

Adrienne took a deep breath. “As you know, my high school experience has been, shall we say, disjointed. I have gone to so many schools, and my grades are all over the place. I don’t play sports or do activities.”

“I thought you rode horses,” I said, thinking of her renegade ride to Walden Pond.

“I did, but I hated being told what to do. And the girls at my stable were bitches. So, I quit that. Anyway, I don’t have much except a record of getting kicked out of prestigious schools. But I’m going to try to stay at this one, even though I’m nervous about the whole Connelly thing.”

“It’s his art, not yours, so please don’t worry about this controversy affecting you,” I said, trying to reassure her. What a strange boomerang life was, bringing the daughter of my former lover back to my kitchen, seeking an internship from me. “I want to help you, Adrienne. If you can commit to weekly meetings with me where we continue to work through more complex recipes and kitchen skills, I’ll be able to write you a kickass recommendation letter. If you want to use that for college or anything else you want to do in life, it should help.”

“Thanks,” she said. “That’s what I was hoping for. The Connelly thing makes me nervous more than anything else. Like I’m constantly feeling dread every time I walk past it or hear the protestors. I don’t even know him. I’m not sure why it bothers me.”

“It should calm down soon,” I said, probably with too much optimism. I had no idea what would actually happen. “But in the meantime, you’ll show your motivation and maturity by working with me on a regular basis. It’ll help for anything you decide to do. I’m in.”

“Thanks, Devon,” she said. “No matter what happened with you and my family, I know you’re a good person. I heard my dad tell my mom that.”

“I’m sure that went over really well.”

15

I stumbled into my apartment kitchen at seven on the morning of Midsy, knowing I had to start preparing for what was going to be an exhausting day. The team had already done so much in advance, but given the breadth of this event, we still had more to do. I opened the refrigerator to get the half-and-half out for my coffee, and when I closed it, I caught a glimpse of a face peering at me through the fire escape window. I dropped the carton of cream and saw it was a smiling Heath. I clutched my chest and walked to the window to let him in.

“You just about gave me a heart attack,” I told him. “Maybe a stroke, too. Definitely a panic attack.”

He wrapped his strong arms around my flannel pajama-clad body. “Good thing I’m an emergency responder,” he said, kissing me.

I pulled back and put my hand over my mouth. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. I’m a hot mess.”

“Emphasis on the wordhot,” he said, kissing the back of my hand, followed by my cheek and then the side of my neck. The whole situation was tempting; part of me wanted Heath to keep going with his early morning seduction. But I needed to get to work, and besides, things between us hadn’t gone much further than this yet. It was also not the right time, and I definitely didn’t want some kind of quickie where I had to run across campus unshowered and with any hint of a sex glow. Marnie woulddefinitely figure me out. And I’d probably run into Ashlyn Lark on my way into the dining hall. Maybe Kyle, too.Oh God, no. Heath needed to leave.

I pulled back again. “I am so happy to see you this morning, but I absolutely need to gulp some coffee and get to work. We have Midsy today, as you might already know.”

He squeezed my hands and then dropped them to walk back over to the window, pulling a large Dunkin’ iced coffee off the fire escape. “I know,” he said, handing the coffee to me. “Everyone at the station already got the briefing in case there’s an incident. Want me to be here when you get back tonight? I’m not working, which is totally fine by me.”

Once again, it felt like bad timing. “I’m not going to be done until at least one in the morning, probably later,” I said. “I’ll be completely wiped out, I’m sure. I won’t be a great person to hang out with at that point.”

“Okay,” he said with a small smile, but it was clear he was disappointed. “I hope it goes well.” He kissed the top of my forehead. “Let me know when you want to hang out again.”

I felt terrible about rejecting him. “How about dinner some night this week?”

“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll text you my schedule. Bye.” He climbed back out the window and headed down the fire escape before I could say anything else.

I ran to the window and yelled down, “Thanks for the coffee!”

“You’re welcome!” shouted a group of female students from the grass below in unison. Ashlyn and her friends, yet again, now erupting in laughter.

I slammed the window shut, grabbed my cell phone, and called Tam.

---