Page 23 of Switching Skates
I grilled burgers and hot dogs for us with homemade potato salad for lunch.
One of the cons—or pros, depending on how you look at it—of celiac disease is that you have to learn how to cook. Because if you don’t, the only things you’ll be eating are bags of chips, packaged food, and raw veggies.
About the only place I feel safe eating out at is Maddio’s Pizza because they take the mention of celiac and allergies seriously,going as far as having separate ingredients stored in other fridges to avoid cross-contamination.
Don’t get me wrong; there have been plenty of days when I said screw cooking and just ate cereal for every meal because I was too lazy to cook. It’s more of a necessity than a passion.
Maeve waves back to me, and they start pedaling this way.
I head inside to dish my food up before they get back so I can avoid any cross-contamination with theirdefinitely notgluten-free buns. I also take a second to package up some of the extras and set them aside so they’re safe for me for later.
Grabbing my loaded-up plate and a Red Bull from the cupboard—room temperature because that’s truly the only way to drink it—I head to the rocking chair out back and stake my claim. I’m sure the two new lovebirds will want the swing to themselves.
Maeve told me they spent the night of the party sitting out here and talking for hours. Eventually, she fell asleep on his shoulder, and he carried her to bed.
Are you kidding me? How cute! And then he slept on the couch downstairs after everyone left since it was so late.
I felt so bad when I woke up. I had slept through the entire thing. Our one party that we were supposed to be hosting together, and I was in a gluten coma the whole time.
It’s not actually a coma, but sometimes, it feels like that. Those naps take me; I don’t take them.
Imagine you’re fighting anesthetic when getting surgery. You can try and stay awake as long as possible, but you will fail eventually because the drug will take over. That’s kind of what it feels like, but a little less dramatic. And when you wake up, you don’t feel rested at all; sometimes, you feel even more exhausted.
Maeve told me not to feel bad though because I let her and Jackson have total privacy. But Maeve isn’t the only reason I feel bad.
She told me Mason stopped by and saved her from that creep. Well, technically, she saved herself, and he came in at the end to take credit, according to her.
And then her new beau knocked him out cold. God, I wish I could have been there to see that. It would have been a moment for the books.
But of course, gluten had to take that away from me.
She told me that Mason stopped by my room, but I don’t remember it at all. That wasn’t because of the brain fog, but because I was passed out.
I wonder if he just walked by and ignored me or if he checked in and saw me sleeping. I know I had a water bottle on my nightstand that certainly hadn’t been there when I fell asleep.
Did he put it there?
I haven’t seen him since the grocery store, which has given my head a chance to clear a bit during our time apart. I swear he has the ability to turn my brain and any logical reasoning into mush.
“Thank you for making lunch.” Jackson looks kindly at me.
Maeve’s smile is uncontrollable as they walk up the porch.
“Of course,” I say back before they disappear inside, taking another mouthful of my burger.
While cooking isn’t my favorite pastime, I take pride in being damn good at it. Probably better than Mason.
“Daphne, was this your dad’s recipe?” Maeve asks, stepping back outside after a couple of minutes.
I nod, feeling a tightness in my chest. He may have never made it for me, but I’m sure he would’ve if he had gotten the chance.
“It’s my favorite. God, I could just eat this.” Jackson moans and groans as he eats, and I can’t help but feel that this is a private experience that I should look away from.
Maeve lifts her eyebrows at me with a dirty smirk, and I roll my eyes and avert my gaze, fighting back a chuckle.
I’m glad she found someone who makes her so happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. Now it’s my turn, right? To get my happily ever after. God, I hope so.
After my class leaves for the night, I stay on the ice rather than take my skates off and pack up. I think more clearly on the thin sheet than anywhere else in the world. It’s my second home, where I’m far more relaxed.
