“I know,” I said. “You really need to focus.”
“Emma,” he whined. “We weren’t going to talk about the game either!”
I tapped the end of his nose. “I’m not talking about the game. I’m talking about the meal you’re making for me, silly. What’s the next course?”
He narrowed his eyes and leaned to rub his nose with mine. “Good girls are patient.”
“Too bad I’m not, and never will be, a good girl.” I lifted my lips and grazed the tip of his nose with my teeth.
“You will be,” he said calmly. “I have no doubt about that.”
Harlan’s final exam meal continued, all his lessons on display in some way or another, whether it was the knife skills, or the handmade pasta, the plating or how he cooked the salmon on our salad to the perfect buttery doneness.
For dessert, he grilled peaches and finished them with a honey-balsamic glaze and creme fraiche. I took in the man across the table from me, letting the last six months of our lives play in my head.
“Did I tell you how proud I am of you?” I asked.
Harlan smirked. “Does that mean I passed?”
“You passed, Chef,” I said. “Congratulations. I hope you see how far you’ve come.”
“I do, but it wasn’t all at once. Cooking this helped me see how it all adds up. The skills build on each other.”
“Most things in life happen little by little,” I said.
“Unless you walk out in front of a bus and the cute girl from work saves your life.”
I snorted. “I’d still argue we fell in love little by little.”
“Sure. But the bus showed us what was already there. You cared about me enough to save me. And the attraction that had been hidden behind messing with each other came to the surface.”
“Your version of flirting could use some work,” I teased him. “I thought you were just picking on me with all your little critiques.”
He pursed his lips. “Well, the good news is that I haven’t needed to flirt with anyone else in a while. But now I know my method does, in fact, work.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “You’re such an ass.”
We were quiet cleaning up the kitchen, with lingering touches and shoulder kisses as we passed by each other. The gravity of all the things hanging in the balance set in.
My team had worked so hard this season, and it all came down to one final game. The pressure of it was dizzying.
And regardless of the outcome of that game, Harlan might be moving across the country. We said we wouldn’t talk about it until after the playoffs, that we wouldn’t distract each other with it, but it clung to us like a dark aura.
Harlan interrupted my thoughts as I was polishing the last plate.
“Do you want to go for a ride?”
I grinned over at him. “I’d love to.”
I clung tight to Harlan’s waist as he drove us downtown, trying to focus on all the sensations: his warmth, the humid air racing over my skin, the sun hurtling toward the horizon. He parked at the riverfront park and we walked side by side. Harlan didn’t say much, and I didn’t have much to say either. Our hands swung between us, and I did what I could to convey my feelings through my touch.
I love you.
I’m proud of you.
I’m lucky you love me.
I want to keep you forever.