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“Yeah, and I’d like you to be able to go to school without worrying about how the tuition’s gonna get paid, or buying your books, or any of that other stuff that might distract you.” The corner of my mouth slides up. “I need you to get good grades so you’ll have your pick of job offers.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. That’s what couples do.”
“What do you want, Griff?”
“You.”
She shakes her head. “What do you want to do?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to buy Jerry’s garage when he retires. We joked around about it, but Ella’s got her welding cert, now. She could be a big help at the shop. So can Eraser. Vapor does solid auto body work?—”
Something that looks like relief passes over her face. “So you want to make it a family business?”
“Yeah, why not? If I can’t help my friends, what’s the point of any of this?”
“What about me? What can I do?”
“Fit us all for hearing aids when we go deaf from listening to Eraser’s shitty music all day long?” I shrug.
“You’re terrible.” Her watch buzzes and she pushes away from the table to stand.
“I’ve got it. It was too heavy for you to put in cold—I definitely don’t want you lifting that pan when it’s three-hundred-and-seventy-five degrees.”
She stays put but doesn’t sit again.
I grab a dishtowel and lower the oven door. A cloud of steam rushes out and mists my face. “Fuck, that’s hot.” I swipe the towel over my forehead and grab the dish by the closest handle and drag it out, then set it on top of the stove.
“Griff, what if you meet someone else?” Molly asks in a small voice.
“What?” I turn so fast, the edge of the still-open oven door sears my calf. “Ow, fuck!” I kick the door closed with a hard bang.
“Are you okay?” Molly asks.
“I’ll be fine.” I twist to look at my leg. A small red line’s seared my skin. Nothing serious. “Now what are you talking about?”
“On the show.”
“Uh, it’s gonna be ten or eleven other dudes, Molly.” I open the top cabinet and pull down what I hope are two clean plates. To be safe, I rinse them off in the sink. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m only interested in one specific woman—you.”
“You said the producer was a woman.”
“Trust me, I’m not her type and she’s not mine.” I glance over my shoulder. “You gonna show me how to dish this out? I don’t want to mess up all the cheesy goodness.”
“Oh.” She laughs and hurries over.
I hand her a spatula, then slip my arm around her waist and lean down. “I don’t want anyone else. The whole time I’ll be away, all I’ll be thinking about is coming home to you.”
She nods and slides the spatula under a layer of cheese and sauce. “But it’s a television show. You’ll probably meet lots of people. You’re so charming, and sexy. You’ll have lots of fans. Older, experienced, sophisticated…” She squeezes her eyes shut and clutches the spatula tight in her hand. “I don’t know.”
I kind of get where she’s coming from. “You don’t think I’m worried you’ll meet some college boy who’ll sweep you off your feet?”
“What?” She sets the spatula down on the counter so hard, bits of cheese and sauce splatter against the Formica. “That’s crazy.”
I shrug and poke my fork into the enchilada. “No crazier than what you said.” I shift my gaze to her face. “You’re smart. Beautiful. You might meet other guys and realize you can do a lot better than a greasy gearhead who knocks people around for fun.”
“You really think that?” she whispers.
