Page 25 of Second Chances
Chapter 14
“Mmmm. Smells amazing,” Charlotte said and leaned up against the kitchen counter.
“It’s just something I whipped up,” Megan grabbed some hot pepper flakes, sprinkled them into the bubbling concoction on the stove and opened the oven to pull out a tray of roasted garlic.
“I think that you missed your calling.” She dipped a wooden spoon into the sauce pot and blew on the Bolognese sauce. She took a small taste and closed her eyes in appreciation, “Oh my god.”
“A cook?” Megan popped the cloves out of the roasted husks and started to mash them into a paste.
“No. Meg. Martha. You know that your dinner parties were legendary – and it wasn’t because of Alex. They were all you.”
Megan wondered if Alex’s new girlfriend was spending her days prepping and planning for his dinner parties. She had loved entertaining, loved the way that he looked at her with appreciation when the guests raved about the Michelin level spread, she would create.
“I’m sorry Meg. I didn’t mean to bring up that asshole.”
“It’s okay.” Meg set down the fork and straightened the apron down her front. She knew that she would miss a lot about her life with Alex, but she had to remember the most important part, the fact that he betrayed her trust in the worst way possible.
Timber yipped as the doorbell chimed.
“Is that your dad?” Charlotte asked the husky. Timber glanced to the door but seemed entranced by the food smells in the kitchen.
“Oh shoot.” Megan fumbled to rip off the apron. “I’ll get it,” she whispered. She turned and tossed the apron onto the counter, and out of the corner of her eye, saw the tie wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon and launch it through the air. Her reflex to catch the spoon was a touch too slow and she caught it as it hit her chest, the tomato sauce spreading across her white t-shirt like she’d just been stabbed.
“Haha. Oh. My. Meg!” Charlotte laughed and wiped the tears from her eye as she pointed at her friend. “I bet you couldn’t do that again in a million years.”
“I need to get the door.” Megan grabbed a cloth from the sink and dabbed in vain at the Rorschach tomato stain on her shirt.
“Sandy will get it,”
“Oh, I forgot that she was here.” Megan tossed the cloth in the sink. “I can’t let him see me like this.”
“Mmmmhmmm.” Charlotte murmured.
“Oh. Stop.” Megan swatted at her friend and ran up the timber stair case two steps at a time.
Megan pulled off the stained shirt and tossed it into the bathroom sink, running cold water into the basin to let it soak. She looked down at her white bra and saw that it was unscathed. She pulled open a drawer and grabbed out another white t-shirt. She tip-toed to the top of the stairs, intent on waiting until Josh had left to venture back downstairs.
She could hear the deep timbre of his voice and the titter of Charlotte’s laugh. She sat on the top step, waiting for the sound of the front door to close but the small talk seemed to drag on and on. Finally, when the heavy door thudded shut, she flew down the stairs to tend to her sauce. She rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and slid to a stop, her fluffy socks sliding on the freshly waxed floors. Josh was sitting at the island, Timber at his feet.
“Don’t worry, I stirred it,” Charlotte grinned. “And I’ve asked Josh here to stay for dinner. There’s far too much Bolognese here for just the two of us.”
Megan’s heart started to hammer in her chest. She had been able to get through their short conversations at the door without fumbling her words, but would she be able to sit through an entire meal without making a fool of herself?
She shot Charlotte a glare and she grinned back.
The three of them sat down at the kitchen island for an informal spaghetti dinner. Megan cursed herself for throwing on another white t-shirt. This was the first time she had seen Josh without his insulated layers. He was wearing a tshirt with some ski brand she’d never heard of on it, but it said, ‘No friends on a powder day.’ His thick biceps still held a summer bronze and the tshirt was tight across his broad shoulders.
Megan plated the pasta while Charlotte opened a bottle of wine.
“Cheers,” Charlotte held up her glass and the trio clinked together the wine glasses, the unmistakable ting of real crystal rang out over the jazz background music Charlotte had put on.
The three of them dug into their pasta, twirling the long strands around their forks. “What does that mean?” Megan asked Josh, pointing at his shirt with her spoon.
Josh looked confused, but then looked down at his shirt and laughed. “You’re not a skier, are you?”
Megan flushed. “No, I’ve never been.”
Josh wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You mean to tell me you have a ski chalet in Chance Rapids and you don’t know how to ski?”
