Page 58 of What He Doesn't Know
“I don’t have one. But if I did, it wouldnotbe someone whose entire life centers around a fat dog named Buster.”
I snorted.
“Got to go, I’m checking out now and then I’ll be elbow deep in this recipe until dinner.”
“Alright alright, I guess I’ll go pester someone else. And hey, happy anniversary. I hope it’s a great night.” His voice was warm, and I smiled, thankful to have my friend back — a friend I didn’t even realize I’d missed so much.
“Thanks, Reese. It will be.”
Our entire house smelled like cherries by the time I finished making dinner.
The glaze was set on low on the stovetop, the lamb being kept warm in the oven until Cameron walked through the door. I’d fixed up deliciously seasoned asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes for the sides, and pulled out an old bottle of red wine we received as a gift on the night of our wedding. We’d been saving it for something special, and although eight years wasn’t a milestone anniversary per se, it felt like the right night to open it.
Even though they killed my feet, I’d strapped on my sexiest pair of red high heels, the ones that matched the lingerie I wore beneath my simple black dress and apron. My hair was down and curled, lips painted a soft pink, and I couldn’t stop myself from bouncing as I waited at the kitchen island for Cameron.
His gift sat wrapped in simple silver wrapping paper in the middle of our small dining table, the one not reserved for guests. It was nestled right beside the two candles I’d lit to set the mood. Inside, there were tickets for a meet and greet with the entire Penguins team before the game with seats in a reserved suite, with food and drinks included for up to twenty people.
At a little after five, I decided to make a playlist while I waited.
At five-twenty-two, I stirred the glaze and checked that the lamb was still warm.
When six rolled around, I sent him the first text of the day, asking what his ETA was with a smiley face.
He didn’t answer, not even when the clock hit seven. The dinner I’d worked so hard on was losing more life with every passing minute.
At seven-thirty, I decided that bottle of wine needed to be opened. I poured a glass that would have made my mother cluck her tongue at me.
And finally, at two minutes until eight, I heard the key wiggling into our front door lock.
I took another sip of my wine as Cameron dropped his keys in the bowl by the door. I listened as he sighed, likely taking off his jacket and hanging it on the rack. He walked right past the kitchen at first, well on his way upstairs, but when he saw me in his peripheral, he paused.
His eyes were tired as they took me in. I was sitting at the table set for two, the candles burned to their ends, music still softly playing from the speakers in the kitchen. He didn’t have a tie on, just a polo and dress slacks — a casual Sunday work attire. And he wasn’t holding flowers, or a gift, or even a smile as he moved slowly into the room.
“Something smells delicious.”
“Lamb,” I answered, taking another sip of wine before setting my glass down carefully. I trailed my fingertip over the wet rim. “And a cherry glaze.”
“That sounds amazing,” he said, tentatively, with his brows bending together in a way that told me he had bad news. “I actually already ate… we ended up ordering in at the office since we had been there all day. But hey, give me an hour or so and I’m sure I can make room for more.”
He smiled. I didn’t.
“You said you’d be home for dinner.”
“I know, I—”
“It’s fine,” I clipped, cutting him off. I was already standing, clearing the dishes from the table. “I’ll just put it all in the fridge. We can eat it as leftovers tomorrow.”
Cameron moved to help me with the dishes but I stopped him, assuring that I had it. I told him to go upstairs and get changed, take a shower, whatever.
I was checked out.
The wine was already flowing steadily through my bloodstream, and nothing else really mattered. Because I was right.
He’d forgotten.
“You opened the Bodegas Roda Cirsion,” Cameron mused, holding up the half-empty bottle of wine as I dropped the still-clean dishes in the sink. I knew I was being louder than necessary as I wrapped up the food to put in the fridge. I thought seriously about throwing it all in the garbage.
“I did.”