Page 20 of Save the Date

“Do you need any help?” Emma gestured in the direction of an overflowing pot of boiling water.

Rob jumped back before turning the heat down. He looked like he had been through war and still had to fight his way home. “No, no. You sit. I’ll be done soon.” He motioned to the sofa and returned to what was quickly becoming the greatest challenge of his adult life.

Emma wondered why he hadn’t just bought a can of sauce instead of attempting to make his own. Maybe he hadn’t realized she was surprisingly easy to please in the sauce department. That was one of the many strange parts of dating—you find yourself doing intensely intimate things for people you barely know.

A memory of Ryan holding her hair back while she puked from acid reflux on their third date popped into her head. Ithad been her first time at his place, and he hadn’t even hesitated. He’d just rubbed her back and pretended the sound of her hurling wasn’t a huge turnoff. Emma had barely known the guy but after that moment she felt safer with him than she had with anyone. He’d even sent her a bunch of articles the next day about how to reduce acid buildup. His genuine desire to find a way to help her feel better made her fall in love with him. It also allowed her to burp freely instead of holding it in.

But maybe it was time to let that love go to make room for someone else. Plus, Rob probably already knew a lot about acid reflux; he was a doctor.

Dinner was finally ready nearly an hour later. Emma stood awkwardly while Rob set the table, not letting her so much as lay down a mismatched fork. As he scavenged his kitchen drawers for matches to light two rather formal candlesticks, Emma wanted to point out that he was focusing on the wrong things. She wasn’t there to be wooed by some archaic standard of romance; she was there to get to know him—and they’d barely said ten sentences to each other since she arrived.

But she also understood that nerves could get in the way of logic. That’s why she nonsensically shouted, “Autograph my foot!” the one time she ran into Mark-Paul Gosselaar outside a popular restaurant. She hadn’t been thinking clearly because she’d been overcome with nerves at meeting her childhood crush. Maybe something similar was happening now. Rob probably didn’t date much, which would explain why their interactions always had a level of performance to them. She needed to make him comfortable enough to open up and be normal with her. Criticizing his “moves” wasn’t the way to get there.

“Sorry, this took a bit longer than expected. I guess I don’t have the red thumb I thought I had,” Rob said.

“Red thumb?”

“Like a green thumb but in the kitchen.”

Emma laughed, which made him break out into a splotchy blush.

“Oh, no. Have you never heard of that? Is this another thing my parents led me to believe was universally used but is really a made-up saying?”

Emma tried to suppress another laugh. She couldn’t tell if Rob was going to be able to joke about this or if he was on the verge of tears. “I think they made it up. But I also think it’s brilliant and I will be using it moving forward.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. I mean, sayings have to start somewhere! Why not in your own family?” Rob looked at her with such relief it made her uncomfortable. She wanted to move away from the intensity of the moment. “What else have they made up?”

Rob leaned back in his chair, letting his brain whirl. “They call stomachaches ‘ouchies.’ If you said you had an ouchie, you immediately got a ginger ale and some crackers.”

“Your parents sound awesome.”

“Yeah, until you go to the nurse’s office in high school and announce you have an ouchie in front of Steven Bombardo and get called Ouchie for the next two years like an idiot.”

“Who is Steven Bombardo?”

“Just the most popular guy at my school. Quarterback, but could also make these incredible ceramics. Really cool dude.” Rob looked off into the distance as though he was summoning the image of his high school idol/tormentor.

“But didn’t he give you a mean nickname?”

Rob shrugged. “I was an easy target. You can’t blame the guy for taking advantage of the situation. I mean, I thoughtouchiewas a medical term until I was fifteen—I deserved to be made fun of.”

“I don’t think anyone deserves to be made fun of. Except Republicans. And maybe those people who dye their dog’s hair without their consent.”

Rob smiled and reached for her hand. “You’re a really nice person.”

Emma smiled back. While the compliment felt sincere, she knew she hadn’t earned it from him. For all he knew, Emma stole money from old people or left trash on the highway.

“I thought gunpoint was an actual place until I was an adult,” Emma confessed. “Like when Cher fromCluelesssaid she got robbed at gunpoint, I thought that was just a dangerous place in LA and people shouldn’t go there.”

She waited for Rob to laugh but instead he nodded, somewhat solemnly. “I can see how that would be confusing,” he replied without a hint of irony.

Emma put some overcooked pasta in her mouth to keep from screaming. After a few more minutes of polite eating, Emma excused herself to the bathroom and immediately dialed Jackie.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Emma whisper-shouted into her phone as she climbed into the shower for added sound protection.

“What’s wrong? Is he trying to murder you? Because you should try to leave strands of your hair around as evidence—”

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