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Hurrying across the street, I strip out of the old jeans and t-shirt I was wearing and into something a little nicer. I get changed in record time and am back at Carla’s side in less than ten minutes.
“Wow.” She whistles under her breath. “If Sav doesn’t want you, I could find a whole slew of girls who would.”
My heart plummets to my toes. I never took into consideration that Savvy might not want me. I know it’s going to take a while to get her to come around, but I always believed she would sooner or later.
“Don’t worry, sweet boy, she’ll be back in your arms if you give her time.” Carla squeezes my hand. “Let’s get started on the pizzelle. She’ll be ecstatic to have one when she gets here. How did your cheesecake turn out last night?”
“I'm not sure. It looks just like the ones we made yesterday, and I followed the recipe you gave me, but I'm scared. What if it’s awful?”
“It’s not the taste that matters, it’s the love you poured into it. She’ll love it no matter what because she knows how much time and effort it takes to make them. Same with the pizzelle. She’s made these recipes for years with me, she can make them just as well as I can. If you’re trying to out bake her, you won't be able to. But if you’re trying to show that you care, she’ll see it.”
“I hope she does,” I whisper.
“Now, let me show you how to make these. They’re not hard, but they take a whole lot of time.”
We mix up the ingredients while the pizzelle press heats up. As soon as everything is ready, we pour a spoonful of the batter into each spot in the press. I wait a few minutes before carefully taking them out and letting them cool.
“I never realized each one had to be cooked individually.”
“Oh yeah. It’s brutal when you need to make a few hundred. I'm glad only a few people ordered them this year.”
I take a bite of the pizzelle once it cools, moaning at how good it is. I keep forgetting what an amazing cook Carla is. I haven’t eaten this well in years.
“Damn, I missed your cooking more than you’ll ever know. I'm going to gain so much weight.”
“Not if we keep you running around the kitchen.” She winks.
We spend the afternoon finishing up the rest of the orders and boxing everything up. I load up the truck, taking everything to the restaurant.
“Do you want to help with dinner? I'm making chicken parmesan.”
“Ugh, that’s my favorite.”
“I know.” She beams at me. “Savvy’s too.”
“I definitely want to help.”
Rolling up my sleeves, we get to work making the sauce from scratch. Carla doesn’t believe in using anything canned. She makes everything from scratch and swears that’s why her food tastes better than anyone else.
I’ll never forget when we were younger, Carla was rushing around trying to get dinner made. She didn’t have time to make spaghetti or sauce from scratch so she boiled up a box of pasta from the grocery store and dumped a canned jar of spaghetti sauce over it. She didn’t tell a soul. We all ate it with a smile on our face, but by the end of the meal, Carla threw her hands up in the air and glared at everyone.
“How dare you! None of you could tell the difference between this and my own cooking?” She throws her napkin on the table and folds her arms over her chest.
Savvy and I glance at each other before we burst out laughing, only making Carla’s glare on us intensify.
“My sweet Carla, I saw the empty box and can in the trash and knew you must have had an awful day to resort to boxed pasta and premade sauce.” Donny’s barely able to hide his amusement. I swear that man couldn’t care less what’s for dinner. He’d eat it all with a smile on his face and ask for seconds. “I told the kids to keep their traps shut or I’d feed them store bought cannoli for dessert.”
Carla tries to keep her glare strong, but she eventually loses the fight with herself and a smile breaks through. We spend the rest of the meal complaining about how much better Carla’s cooking is and she rewarded us with her amazing cannoli.
“Do you remember that time you served us boxed pasta and premade sauce?” I smirk, glancing up from the pizzelle press. A loud gasp fills the air and a hand flies to Carla’s chest. Her wide eyes are trained on me and nothing else.
“Dammit, Nixon! Are you trying to make the woman cry? We don’t talk about that shit. It never happened. She’s never been anything but amazing!” Donny rushes to her side and soothes her by rubbing a hand up and down her back. As soon as she can't see his expression, a massive smile spreads over his face and he has to fight to keep from laughing.
Chapter 13
Savannah
“Are you sure you guys don’t mind driving separately? I don’t have to take stuff home today.”
