Page 52 of Weekends with You

“We think hating each other is going to be the problem, then, do we?” I asked.

“Absolutely. In fact, I think the distance might not be the problem at all. I think it might be your terrible personality.”

“Henry!”

“It’s so easy to wind you up, I can’t resist,” he laughed.

“You’re cruel.”

“Aye, so maybe it’smyterrible personality that’ll be our downfall.”

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” I said.

“Is that a yes?”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

He beamed at me in the dark, and heat spread across my skin. He was right; it wasn’t such a crazy idea. And besides, after Renee agreed to let me do the wedding, I owed it to myself to go after what I wanted, even if I couldn’t be sure of the outcome.

“Welcome, class. Please grab an apron, find a seat wherever you’re comfortable, and prepare to get started.” Our instructorfor today, retired chef and cookbook author Hillary Adams, stood at the front of the room and ushered us in. She had a warmth you’d expected more in a yoga teacher than an executive chef.

“Two to a bench, please,” she instructed as we shuffled to the back. Of course, before I could even glance in Raja’s direction, I was interrupted by Henry, directly in my line of sight.

“Partners?”

I glanced around the room and clocked that Raja was paired with Liv, Cal with Margot, and Finn with Jan. For the sake of Margot and our anti-Valentine’s weekend, I didn’t want to do anything romantic, but I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t happy Henry and I ended up together anyway.

“Partners,” I confirmed.

“Off to a good start.” He smiled, and led me to our bench with a hand on my lower back. It was a good thing he couldn’t see my face, because I was sure my grin looked as goofy as it felt.

I slipped my apron over my head when we arrived, fumbling with the strings.

“Turn around,” Henry said. When I did, he pulled the apron strings tight against my back, tying a quick bow with deft hands. I could feel him towering over me, and I savored the feeling of his hands against my body, even if it was only the brush of his knuckles.

“All right, then. Are we ready to get started?” Chef Adams pulled me back to Earth, and we all nodded to confirm our readiness. I shot a glance over at Margot to see how she was holding up. She smiled at something Cal whispered, and it reminded me platonic love was just as important as romantic love.

Chef Adams introduced us to the variety of meats andcheeses spread across our benches. We sampled hard cheeses, soft, spicy, goat’s-milk, nondairy, stinky, crumbly, creamy, and sharp to our heart’s content before learning where to place them on our boards.

“Taste this one,” Henry said, offering me a cube of something the color of marigolds. I opened my mouth, feeling his fingers against my lips and the salt of the cheese on my tongue.

“That’s the spirit,” Chef Adams said from behind us, making her rounds. I was so embarrassed, I nearly choked.

“Did you guys not get the memo that we were doing this ironically?” Finn laughed from his station. “For Margot,” he whispered. “We all hate Valentine’s Day, remember?”

“Of course,” I said, scrambling. “We were, uh, just getting in the spirit of the irony.”

“Someone teach this woman to tell a lie,” Finn laughed. “Raja, she needs help.”

“I do not,” I protested.

“She needs more help than even I can give her,” Raja said.

I scoffed at them both, returning to my bench and pretending to focus. I watched Chef Adams roll salami into roses, listened as she explained the importance of creating a meat “river” through the center of the board, and sipped my wine at a faster pace to soak up my embarrassment.

“My roses look like rocks,” Henry whispered, trying to contribute something to the board, which was largely becoming my creation.

“Watch me,” I said.

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