Page 65 of All's Fair in Love and Christmas
Panic crept into Derek’s face. “But I just said—”
“Do you know where over three million people in Japan get their holiday meal from?”
Derek’s head oscillated on his neck. “No.”
Jeremy grinned. “Kentucky Fried Chicken. Colonel Sanders will cook for you.”
“Really?” Derek’s jaw slackened. “That’s so cool.”
Jeremy finished assigning food and decorations. His mom always said the best gifts weren’t ones that came from the store but ones that came from the heart. Hopefully Mackenzie would agree.
26
I have some hummus and carrot sticks in the refrigerator at work. I would have been happy to share.” In fact, the veggies and dip were the saving grace I’d fallen back on when I’d finally left Mom’s hospital room last night, too exhausted to even think of stopping by the grocery store like I’d originally planned.
“Next,” the employee at the register calls, and the line shuffles forward.
“I know.” Keri looks up at the menu on the wall behind the order counter. “But it’s freezing, and I’m in the mood for some soup.”
It is rather cold. I bury my hands in the sleeves of my sweater. I wish it would snow again. It sounds weird, but it feels warmer to me on snow days.
“Next.”
We move to the front of the line. “I’ll have the creamy potato soup in a bread bowl, please,” Keri orders, then steps aside for me.
“And I’ll take the half soup and salad. Minestrone and Caesar, please.”
The person working the register rings us up, then gives us our drinks as well as a number to set on the table, telling us someonewill bring our food out when it’s ready. I follow Keri to a booth in the corner, then slide onto the bench seat across from her.
“So.” I unwrap a straw and stick it into the glass of water in front of me. “Did you finally settle on a present to give Frank for Secret Santa?”
Keri screws up her lips. “I’m a nice person, so he’s getting the generic but acceptable gift of a pen set.”
I take a drink of the ice water, a shiver running through my body. The hot soup was a good idea.
“Speaking of guys from work.” Keri makes her eyebrows jump up and down like they’re hurdle runners on a track-and-field team.
The heat racing toward my cheeks chases the chill of the ice water away.
“What are you going to do with Jeremy?” she asks.
I look around the restaurant, pretending to be fascinated by the people slurping soup from spoons and talking around mouthfuls of sourdough. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Imeanyou’ve had a crush on him for as long as you’ve known him. Imeanyou went out with him two days ago. On a date. Imeanwhen are you going to tell him how you feel?”
I move my glass closer and wipe away the condensation puddled on the table. “I don’t know,” I admit on a breath.
While I’d like to claim that going out with Jeremy, holding his hands ice-skating, and feeling the security of his comforting arms around me in Mom’s hospital room miraculously knocked down all the walls of timidity that imprison me, that isn’t the case. My chest still tightens when I envision doing something daring. Like walking up to Jeremy and confessing that I’ve been falling in love with him for years. I can’t even get through the made-up conversation in my own mind before my heart gallops away from me.
Keri reaches across the table and covers my hand with her own. “I haven’t gotten to ask you yet. How did your first session go with the counselor yesterday?”
An aproned employee approaches our table. “Soup and salad?” The plate bearing my lunch hovers over the table.
I point a finger in the air, and she sets the plate down in front of me.
“Have a good meal,” she says after presenting Keri with her steaming bread bowl full of white, creamy soup.
We each say a silent prayer before picking up our silverware. The minestrone is perfectly seasoned. The noodles not overcooked.
