Page 104 of Almost Paradise

“No,” Nia says after a few coughs. “Drake is just a really good cook.”

“Nia, Drake can’t cook,” Langley says. “He probably ordered the food from some fancy restaurant and lied to you.”

“No, he didn’t. I’ve watched him cook dozens of times. He cooks for me and Carter every weekend when Delores isn’t here.”

Langley looks around in complete disbelief. “Everyone, come here,” he announces. Everyone, including Nia’s family, comes over. “Nia is under the impression that Drake can cook.”

They chuckle in disbelief. Even my mother waves Langley off. Nia’s dad lets out a loud belly laugh.

“Boy, please,” he says.

“Carter, can Daddy cook?” I ask my son.

“Better than Mommy. He made me chicken and pasta with the white sauce,” his little voice says.

“That boy and Nia would live off Chef Boyardee or tuna straight from the can,” Nia’s dad says. “And this one,” he gestures at me, “can’t cook. I’m certain of it. Look at him.”

“Drake, I’ve never even seen you make a sandwich,” Hannah says.

“That’s because I’ve only ever cooked for my wife and son,” I tell them.

“Wyatt, do you know anything about this?” Maggie asks.

“Never seen him so much as spread peanut butter on toast,” Wyatt says.

“A very observant lawyer,” Audrey mumbles.

Wyatt hears her and raises his glass to her. She huffs and looks away.

“Prove it. Make something,” Hannah says.

“Well, I’m not cooking now. There’s a bunch of food here,” I tell her.

“I think that’s best,” Langley says.

“Make them that champagne shrimp and pasta,” Nia says. “With the shaved parmesan on top. That’s delicious.”

“Champagne pasta?” Ray says. “For real?”

“Fine, but everyone is only getting a sample, not a full meal. Follow me.”

“If I didn’t see this with my own eyes,” Nia’s father says about an hour later over a small plate of my champagne pasta. He even takes some from his wife’s plate before she manages to shove him away.

“He makes all kinds of stuff,” Nia says. “A few times he made us lobster omelets.”

“Make that now,” Langley says.

“Once he made a Tomahawk steak with this amazing red wine reduction sauce,” Nia says, practically licking her lips at the thought.

“No way,” Langley says. “When did you learn to cook?”

“When I was in grad school, I watched a lot of cooking shows and started cooking for myself,” I tell him.

“Make me one of those lobster omelets,” he orders.

“Langley, I’m not your personal chef. Have Cook make you a lobster omelet,” I tell him.

“I’m hurt,” Wyatt says. “You’ve never once cooked a thing for me.”

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