Chapter Thirty-Nine

Tessa

Sherlock drops me off at my place, and I head up.

I won’t be getting another kiss from Ben tonight after all.

It’s early in the day yet, about two p.m.

I sigh.

The zoo seemed the perfect place to feel Da one last time, but I know something else that will be nearly as perfect. I’ll make one of Mommy’s recipes—Da’s favorite food in the world.

I’ll cook for him. I’ll cook for me.

I have to go to the market. I grab my mom’s recipe for cheese enchiladas, which is my favorite. It was also Da’s favorite.

I grab my purse and walk to the nearest market. It’s Sunday, so they will close soon, but I make it just in time. Mommy’s red sauce requires a bunch of different ground peppers, but I can’t find them all. Regular chili powder will do, laced with a little cayenne.

Corn tortillas, cheddar jack cheese, and lettuce, onions, and tomatoes for toppings. And for the sauce? Chili powder, cayenne, garlic, onion, cumin, tomato paste, and water with flour for thickening.

I grab everything I need, and then, on a whim, I also grab the ingredients to make caramel flan, one of my mother’s signature desserts.

I didn’t expect to buy so many groceries, and as I load my two reusable bags, I realize how heavy they are for the walk back to my place.

But that doesn’t matter, as my step is light, and I’m excited.

I’m going to make enchiladas and flan for Da and me.

I smile.

And Ben.

I’m going to invite Ben over for dinner.

He may not be able to come, since he had to go to work, but I’m going to invite him anyway. And if he can’t make it? I’ll eat and have leftovers.

What’s important is that I feel like eating.

My enchiladas won’t be as good as what Aunt Lily made yesterday as part of her feast for Da’s reception. But that’s okay.

These are for Da and me. If Ben’s available, I’ll invite him over to share them. But I need to remember to do good things for myself, too. I’m important.

I get back to my place, and I’m gathering the ingredients together when my phone rings.

It’s Skye. She’s checking in as usual.

“Hi, Skye,” I say into my phone.

“You doing okay today, Tess?”

“Yeah, I am.” I walk through my kitchenette into my small living area. “I know this makes no sense at all, but I actually feel better than I have in a long time.”

“Tessa?” Skye’s tone is concerned.

“I know. My father. I’m going to miss him terribly, and I hate the fact that I didn’t get to say goodbye in person. But we had a good relationship, Skye, even after I left the church. He knows how much I loved him and cherished him. I can’t imagine what life’s going to be like without him, but for some reason I feel like cooking today.”

“You?”

“Hey, I can cook.”

“If you call packaged ramen and Lean Cuisines cooking.”

“I eat that stuff because I don’t have time to cook most of the time,” I say.

She scoffs at me.

“Okay, fine. I’m lying. I do make killer guac, though. I need to hold onto my roots, Skye. My dad is gone. It was so unexpected. What if the same thing happens to my mother? I need to learn how to cook. Cook all of the Mexican favorites from her side of the family, and even some Irish stuff for my dad. I’m starting today. Because I feel like it. I’m going to make some cheese enchiladas.”

“Sounds yummy. I’d invite myself over, except Braden and I already have plans.”

“Actually, I’m going to invite Ben.”

Skye gasps. “Are the two of you—”

“No, not really. He’s only kissed me once. Yesterday.”

“At your father’s funeral?”

“At the reception, actually. I was standing outside in the rain, and it was…”

I almost don’t want to tell her because it was so perfect. If I tell her, if someone else knows, it’ll be tainted in some way.

“Ben… He…kissed you?”

“Yeah.”

“Just a kiss?”

“Yeah. I’m not even sure he was ready for that much, but the timing was perfect.”

“That’s very un-Ben-like.”

“Meaning?”

“He moves quickly, Tessa.”

“Not with me, apparently, which works out fine.”

I stop talking for a moment. Does that mean he’s not actually interested in me? Am I imagining it?

No, of course not. I can’t be imagining it when he made such a point about wanting to kiss me but waiting for the right time.

“Tess? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. He and I had lunch today, actually, but he got called into work. So he probably won’t be able to come over to sample my mediocre enchiladas anyway, but I thought I’d invite him.”

“First of all, your enchiladas won’t be mediocre. Genetics alone should see to that.”

“I’ve helped my mom in the kitchen many a time,” I say, “but I’ve never actually made them myself.”

“You want me to come help you? I don’t have to meet Braden for a few hours.”

“No, that’s okay. For some reason, it seems really important that I do this myself.”

“I understand. If you need anything, you know where I am. Day or night. I will always answer the phone for you.”

“I know, Skye. Thanks.”

I return to the task, whipping up the sauce. I mix together some butter and flour to make a roux, and then I add the chili powder until it’s good and thick. I add water slowly, continuing to whisk as it boils and thickens.

Once that’s done, I take the corn tortillas, dip them in the sauce, and fill them with cheese, folding them over and placing them in an oblong pan. When they’re done, I pour the remaining sauce over all the enchiladas and top them with more cheese.

Then into the oven they go.

And I realize I haven’t called Ben.

I decide to text him instead.

Tessa:Hey. I hope your work is going well. I’m making enchiladas if you’d like to come over for dinner. I’m making flan, too.

I set my phone down and wait for the ding of his return text.

And I wait.

And wait some more.

He’s probably in a meeting. But on a Sunday afternoon?

Of course he could be. This is Black Inc. You don’t get to be a billionaire without working all hours of the day, all days of the week. They do business all over the world. It’s already Monday morning in China and Australia.

That’s okay. If he can’t make it for dinner, I will eat enchiladas to my heart’s content.

Because I have an appetite now.

Just like I had an appetite this afternoon for lunch.

So odd, given that my father is gone.

But that was a week ago, and yesterday’s funeral helped me say goodbye to him.

It also helped me realize that life is fragile and short.

And I don’t want to spend one more second of it feeling sorry for myself or giving Garrett Ramirez any kind of control over it.

The robust aroma of the melted cheese starts to fill my small kitchen. I find my mom’s recipe for flan, and I begin to assemble the ingredients.

Flan is a custard dish, which means eggs and milk. I’m beginning to mix it together when my phone finally beeps.

I grab for it so quickly that I actually drop it onto my tile floor.

I pick it up and sigh in relief. The screen is intact.

Ben: Sure, I’d love to. How about around six?

Tessa:Perfect.

I pull the enchiladas out of the oven, cover them in foil, and put them in the fridge. I’ll resume baking them later.

But I can still make the flan.

I find myself smiling and humming Mommy’s old Mexican folk tunes as I pad about my kitchen, cooking for Ben Black.

Cooking for a man.

A man who…

A man who I think I might be able to love.