ELEVEN
Hartley
I’m cleaningup in the kitchen when I realize that I might be cooking dinner with Brennan again tonight. I’ve been avoiding texting Eli because I have a feeling that once I start, it will be hard to stop. He’s really my closest friend in this town. Now though, I need to make sure that I have enough in my fridge to feed all of us.
Hartley:Are you and Brennan eating here tonight?
Eli:Are you offering to cook for us again?
Eli:We can grab something on our way too.
Hartley:I can cook. I was thinking spaghetti since Brennan had so much fun with the macaroni last night. Or should we feed him something else? Something with more vegetables?
Eli:Hold on. I’m about to pick him up from school. Let me ask him.
Hartley:Okay
Eli:He said spaghetti and asked if we could have garlic bread too.
Hartley:Of course! I’ll grab some French bread from the store and we can make our own.
Eli:Let me swing by my house and grab the power tools. Brennan and I will swing by the store and grab the French bread. Just one loaf, right? Do you need anything else?
Hartley:No, just the bread. Are you sure you don’t need to be back at the shop?
Eli:No, I have someone watching the place. It’s pretty slow this time of year anyway. Besides, those tables and chairs are going to take a while.
Hartley:Okay, if you’re sure.
Eli:Alright. See you soon.
I spendthe next forty minutes tidying up my apartment and changing into something a little nicer. I try not to analyze why I’m getting dressed up when I’m going to be getting dirty downstairs. It’s definitely not because I’ll be seeing Eli.
There’s a knock at my door and I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror before I head out to let them in.
Brennan rushes past me and dumps his backpack on the couch before he hurries over to the kitchen.
“We got the French bread, Ms. Hartley,” he says excitedly.
“Thank you, Brennan! Are you ready to help me make some spaghetti and garlic bread?”
He nods excitedly and I take the bread from Eli before I join Brennan in the kitchen.
“If it’s alright with you two, I’ll head downstairs and get started on the chairs,” Eli says as I help Brennan wash his hands in the kitchen sink.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until I can help you?” I ask, but he waves me off.
“I’ll be fine,” he assures me and I nod, giving him a small smile before I turn back to help Brennan.
“We’ll come get you when it’s done,” I call to him as he grabs my key ring off the hook by the front door and heads downstairs to the bakery.
Brennan is very excited to help me cook, so I let him fill up the pot with water. We turn the stove on and I slice the bread in half before I show Brennan how to make garlic bread from scratch.
Seeing him concentrate so hard as he spreads the butter and garlic across the bread. Watching him and seeing how enthusiastic and engaged he is reminds me of cooking with my grams. It reminds me of when I discovered my own love and passion for cooking.
I make Brennan watch as I slide the bread into the oven and set the timer. I don’t have much experience with kids, but returning him with a burn or injury doesn’t seem like a good idea.
We check the noodles and I drain them when Brennan nods that they’re done. I double-check that the stove is off before we grab dishes and parmesan cheese from the fridge.