“Oh thank God,” she exhales her words in one breath while holding her hand on her chest. The towel she was using to try to beat the flames out with is still tight in her fist. “I tried water, and that was a huge mistake. Then I panicked because I couldn’t find the fire extinguisher, but it’s not like I’d know how to use it anyway.”
I give her a pointed look. “It would’ve caused a bigger mess than necessary. Guess you didn’t learn how to cook in Chicago.” I chuckle. “Or any basic fire safety.”
She narrows her eyes and glares. “I’m always working. I can’t even keep a houseplant alive, so trust me when I say learning to cook wasn’t a priority. But my parents are at work, and I was bored, so I thought I’d fry some chicken. How hard can it be if the tutorials on YouTube are only a minute long? I just didn’t realize how hot the oil was or that the chicken was still frozen.”
Sarah glances at the oven, and I notice her expression change. She quickly pulls out a tray of burnt cookies, then places them on the counter. “Great. These are ruined too. I guess today is not my lucky day.”
I try, but it’s impossible to stop my laughter. “Damn.”
“This is what happens when I try new things.” She sighs. “I guess no matter how old I get, I still find trouble somehow.”
“Or it finds you.” My expression softens when I drink her in. She’s wearing a red sweater and jeans that look as if they were painted onto her petite frame. Our eyes meet, and I take the opportunity to spend more time with her today. “Well you know I’m not gonna let you starve, so how ’bout I take you to lunch?”
She tilts her head. “I’d like that, Cole. It’ll give us a chance to catch up and save me from eating a crappy sandwich for lunch. I won’t be turning the stove on again, lesson learned.”
A smile touches my lips. “We should probably open some windows so your dad doesn’t lose his shit when he comes home and takes a whiff of this stench.”
“That’s a great idea,” she says with a nod. Sarah opens the back door, and I take care of all the windows in the kitchen. Ten minutes later and the smoke is gone. She grabs some air freshener to cover up the burnt smell while I clean up the mess I made with the baking soda. The house almost looks as immaculate as her mother keeps it.
Sarah leaves the window open above the sink but closes the others.
“You know they’re probably going to notice something’s not right,” I tease, walking outside with her next to me.
She snorts and shrugs. “I doubt they’d be surprised. Mom knows I do food delivery every day or eat whatever’s offered at work. I don’t have a lot of time in my schedule to learn new skills,” she admits. Sarah notices my patrol car, then grins. “Can we walk?”
A layer of powdery snow coats the ground, but the sun provides a bit of warmth. “Sure. Lead the way.”
We fall into step next to one another, and though I yearn to bring up many things, I don’t want things to get awkward. “I can’t believe you burned the cookies,” I say with a laugh.
She shakes her head. “I was planning to eat the whole dozen before Mom got home from work. They were the really good sugar cookies with the snowman stamped on top.”
“You always loved those,” I say, remembering we used to bake those ridiculous cookies every holiday.
“I did.” She pouts, sticking out her lower lip. When we’re at the diner, I grab the door and pull it open for her.
“I’m amazed how things are exactly the same way as when I left,” she says once we’re inside.
I nod as Kellie leads us to one of the oversized booths next to a large window facing the busy street.
Once we sit, I order a cup of coffee, then a hot cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream for Sarah. She laughs and nods in agreement, then adds two glasses of water. No matter how many times I’ve eaten here, I still grab the menu and look at the options.
“Sometimes, I think about the stuffed French toast and wish I could have it shipped to my apartment,” she admits.
“It’s the best in the state, so not too ridiculous of an idea.” I grin.
Kellie sets down our drinks and takes our order before scurrying away.
Sarah sips her hot cocoa and hums. “Yes, Chicago is missing this. It’s just not the same.”
“Of course not. You know Blanche has a secret recipe for it and will carry it with her to the grave,” I remind her.
“Oh yeah, it’s probably crack because I never want just one cup.” She takes another drink, then abruptly changes the subject. “So how have you been? Truthfully.”
I give her a smirk. “I’ve been good. No complaints.”
Her eyes linger on my lips before she lowers them, then blinks. “Time has been good to you,” she says softly.
“What was that?” I lean toward her as I rest my arms on the table.
A blush touches her cheeks, and she meets my gaze. “I didn’t stutter.”
The underlying current streaming between us is undeniable. It’s as if it never faded in the first place.
Sarah brushes the hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear. It’s one of her nervous habits. “You just seem very happy and healthy,” she confirms.
“Well, thanks. I’m pretty content. My parents are doing good. There’s hardly any crime in Snow Port besides Drunk Earl causing a scene every Friday night at the pub. I don’t have any major complaints.”
I purposely leave out the detail of missing her so damn much. Sarah was my other half, but I refused to selfishly hold her back from her dream job. I just wanted her to be happy, and we both knew after trying so damn hard that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work. So I let her go because she needed to focus on her career. Time and distance had caused us to drift apart, and I had to accept it when I realized we were over. While not much of my day to day has changed, I can tell hers has.
I continue, “Tell me how you’ve been. How’s work and living in a big city? Like you expected it to be?”
“Not quite. Work is work. I’m up at the butt crack of dawn every day and in bed by dark. Hence why I lack basic living skills.” She sighs with a small laugh. “And if I’m being honest, I could use some social skills too. It’s easy to read from a script, but hanging out with people when I’m so busy is hard.”
“But you’re happy?” I ask, wishing I knew if she regrets our breakup as much as I do.
She sucks in a deep breath and exhales just as our food arrives. Unsurprisingly, the subject swiftly changes to how the French toast is as big as her plate.
“Has it always been this large?”
“That’s what she said,” I quip.
Sarah snorts and nearly chokes on the bite she just put in her mouth. Once she swallows it down and wipes her mouth, she looks at me. “I’ve missed your quick comebacks.”
I’ve missed a lot about her too. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to throw in a few more before you leave town.” I pop a fry in my mouth.
“So are you excited about the tree lighting in a few days?” she asks as I take a bite of my cheeseburger.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun and really beautiful to see. The tree your father picked out this year is the biggest one yet, and I heard he reprogrammed the star and lights to blink to the music or something,” I say, then add, “Of course, it’s speculation from the old ladies at the bakery, but you know how things are ’round here.”