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“ L azarus has a girlfriend,” I deliver this news with a flat voice, waiting for the vultures to swoop.

My wife, not really very vulture-like, swoops as if on command. “He does ?? Who?”

“Victoria.”

“Who is that?”

“I have no idea.”

Claire storms over, oven mitts on hips. “Well... Well, you can’t drop a bomb like that on me and not back it up with details! How do you know he has a girlfriend?”

“Because he asked me for a recipe he can make that’s decadent and doesn’t require an oven.”

“Why doesn’t he just buy—”

“No boxed mixes. No store-bought. He wants to make it with his own two hands. Wait. I wonder if you can say that, since he’s made up of, like, different people? He could have fingers from like—”

“Honey, stop.” Claire winces. “Never mind how many recycled pieces he has; he has two hands now. And he wants to make something himself, homemade?” Her eyes turn starry.

“Cooking is my love language, that’s for sure.

I think it is for a lot of people, and it must be for this Victoria. How romantic.”

I hesitate. I could let her dream. That might be nice. Or, later on, she’ll find out the truth, pout at me, and I’ll feel guilty. “I think it might be more like him showing that he can actually do it. For a bet. Or to shut her up.”

“Oh. I thought he liked her.”

“He must, or he wouldn’t go to the trouble to butt heads with her. You know him. If he didn’t care about her, he’d just ignore her. Like he ignores pretty much everyone. I don’t even think he’d come in here, except Manny likes the coffee.”

“That is true. So what did you tell him to make?”

“My Last-Minute Cheesecake. The one with the gingersnap crust and the pumpkin filling?”

“Oh my God, I love that one. But that’s so not last-minute. You need four hours to let it set!” Claire protests. “Why do you call it last-minute anything?”

“Because I made that recipe the day my oven broke, and at the last minute, before I closed the shop for the day, I told Georgia to write on the special board that we were having Gingersnap Pumpkin Cheesecake. And now it’s a bestseller.”

“Well, I can’t argue there.” Claire pouts at me.

Damn it. I thought I was going to avoid the pout! “What? What is it?”

“Can you make me one? Pleeeease?” Claire wheedles.

“But—we have to go out tonight, don’t we? I thought you said tonight we had to drive up to the mall to see that new furniture store? To get stuff for the guest bedroom?” I protest. “I told Georgia and Douglas we would call and tell them a time to meet up over there.”

Claire smirks and shuts the bedroom door behind me as I take off my grubby-feeling tee shirt, stuck to my chest after baking and cooking in a hot kitchen all day.

“You shower, I’ll join you—right after I text Georgia and tell her we’ll have to push it back to Friday night. I’ll just say that something came up at the last minute.”

I look down at my boxers as I step out of my jeans. Claire follows my gaze.

“Well, I’ll be,” I say, all teeth and seduction as I saunter over to her so she can feel what “just came up.” “It looks like you’re right.”