Page 77 of Between Love and War
I blink.
Because I remember—clear as day—Kate telling me that her mixer is seven years old, and that it’s harder to operate now.
Without thinking, I walk toward the door. It opens with a jingle, and a young guy in a vest and name tag pokes his head out. “Sir Michael?” he says, starstruck. “Hi! Do you need help?”
I point. “That mixer. The purple one.”
He lights up like a Christmas tree. “Excellent choice! It just came in—vintage style, planetary motion, five-speed settings. I can give you a demo if you want?”
“No demo,” I say.
He nods and disappears into the back to get a new stock. Just then, another staff member approaches. He squints at me.
“I’m a big fan, sir…” he says. I smile politely. “Always have, always will be.” I shake his hand and agree to take a photo as the stand mixer is being prepared for me.
I walk to the counter, ready to pay when I spot a rack of sticker labels nearby. I aimlessly take one decorated with cupcakes.
“Can I… uh, borrow a pen?” I ask the cashier.
The saleslady blinks. “You want to add a gift note?” She hands me a pen.
“Nope,” I say, peeling the sticker. I grab her pen and scrawl, ‘For Michael Lee’s cookies.’Then I stick it on the stand mixer and smile at the lady as I return her pen and put the stickers on the counter.
She gives me a look that says she hasso many questionsbut chooses to stay silent.
I exit the store door with a giant box and head toward my car. Thankfully, Heather agreed to let me bring my car to Magnolia Heights—arguing that people here already know me and won't suddenly treat me like a walking billboard just because I drive a fancy car. She’s right. No one cares. I could pull up in a blimp and Manang Linda would still ask if I’ve eaten dinner.
The drive back is uneventful, except for the fact that I spend 80% of it overthinking a purple stand mixer. It’s just a gift. Just a small appliance. For someone who bakes cookies. Specifically cookies I may or may not be obsessed with. I’m not trying to impress her. I’m not.
I pull up to Kate’s house, box in hand, fully ready to drop this off with a casual “hey, thought you could use this,” and then disappear like a humble little elf.
But then I see the shoes.
So many shoes.
And since I’m used to just barging into people’s houses, because that’s how they do it here, I open the door and enter.
Which is a terrible mistake.
Every single person in the room turns to look at me. Aunties. Uncles. A suspicious toddler with a lollipop. A dog in a sweater. A guy who might be Kate’s cousin or her uncle—I have no way of knowing.
And standing in the middle of it all?
Katie.
Holding a plate of spaghetti. Mouth slightly open. Eyes wide.
I glance down at the box in my hands.
“Hey,” I say. “I, uh…”
I don’t finish because Kate immediately locks eyes with me and sets her spaghetti down. She grabs my arm and takes me to the kitchen.
“I brought you something,” I manage, as we pass three aunties, two confused cousins, and what might be a choir forming in the living room.
She doesn’t say anything yet. Just keeps pulling me toward the kitchen like she’s trying to save us both. And I let her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
