I Knead You Tonight

by Hunter, Teagan

  “I screwed myself. I’ll likely need another surgery to repair everything.”

  Her eyes drop shut. “I’m sorry, Winston.”

  “It’s my own fault.”

  “I know, but it still sucks.”

  “It does.” I place another quick kiss to her lips because I just can’t help myself. “Look, Drew, I don’t want you to think this is some speech to get you to forgive me for last night, and I really don’t want you to think this is something I’m deciding because of last night. I wanted to tell you forty-eight hours ago that I love you, but I wanted you to be ready to hear it. I want this, all of this, with you.”

  “I want it too. It doesn’t mean we don’t have shit to work on, though. I’m still upset with you. I still want to strangle you half the time.”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  She rests her head against my chest, smiling. I hold her tight.

  “I still hate you, Winston, just so we’re clear.”

  “I know, Drew. I still hate you too.”

  A Slice of the Future

  Winston

  “Come on, Daniels, just one more. You got this.”

  I raise the bar over my head with less effort than I’ve had to use in years. I love the way my muscles stretch, because for the first time in a long damn time, it’s not a bad stretch.

  My doctor was right. I screwed my shoulder enough to require another surgery to repair my obliterated rotator cuff, all because I was a whiny asshole who didn’t want to follow through with my original plan for recovery.

  If I could go back and slap past me, I would.

  But, live and learn…and go thousands of dollars into debt, I guess.

  I try not to think about it, though, pushing for a bonus rep.

  “Showoff.” My physical therapist, Carlos, grabs the bar, helping me set it on the rack. “Proud of ya, buddy. That was your last set. You are officially done with PT.”

  A sense of relief washes over me. Even though I’m fully aware I’m not done healing yet, I’m already on a better track than I was, and that’s enough for me.

  “Thanks.” I shake his hand. “Really appreciate everything you’ve done, man. Thanks for not letting me give up.”

  “It was dicey there for a minute, but I’m glad we made it to the end.”

  I almost quit again.

  I was at the same point I was at after my first surgery and everything felt like such bullshit. I wasn’t getting better. I was stuck.

  Or at least that was what it felt like.

  Luckily, this time around I had a therapist—and of course Drew—who wouldn’t let me bitch out, and I’m grateful for him.

  “Me too. No offense, though, Carlos—I really hope I never see you again.”

  He laughs. “Feeling’s mutual.”

  We shake hands again and I hit the front desk, checking out for the last time.

  I walk back to my station wagon—she’s still running like the magnificent beast she is—with a smile on my face, feeling like I’m on top of the world.

  I check the time on my dashboard and—

  “Fuck! I’m gonna be late.”

  Throwing the car into reverse, I hightail it out of the parking lot toward home.

  I have just thirty minutes to get across town, shower, and get all three of us out the door on time.

  My PT days are always intense, and I should have paid more attention to the time. I have a strict schedule I’m on and knew better than to linger at the front desk chatting with Susan.

  Drew’s depending on me to be there for her. I haven’t let her down in the last five or so months we’ve been together, and I don’t plan to start now.

  Things between us haven’t been magically easy, especially throwing my surgery and recovery into the mix, but we’ve been putting in the effort to make it work.

  She enrolled in culinary school, leaving her less time to work at Slice, which means I had to step up and really get my photography business off the ground.

  At first, she was against me starting the business. It wasn’t because she didn’t believe in me, because she always has, but because she thought I wasn’t doing it out of sincere desire. I finally sat her down and showed her the thousands of photos I’ve taken over the years and even laid out the business model I’ve had saved since before my accident but never took the initiative on.

  She understood then that the only thing that was holding me back was my own fear and basically told me how dumb I was for not believing in myself.

  She’s lucky her candor is a total turn-on.

  With how hard I’ve been hitting the grind—and through Drew’s constant encouragement—I’m already looking to turn a profit with Daniels’ Digitals in the first year.

  It’s weird how sometimes what we fear the most ends up bringing us the most joy.

  I can’t believe there was ever a day when I was scared to take my love of photography to the next level.

  I’m good at what I do. I know that—I’ve known that, but I never thought I was good-enough-to-have-a-waitlist kind of good.

  These last few months have proven me wrong.

  I pull into my driveway and take the stairs two at a time.

  “Hey, I’m here!” I say, throwing open the front door.

  Drew’s standing with her arms crossed, glaring at me. “Were you flirting with Susan again?”

  “What can I say?” I grin, crossing the room and sweeping her into my arms. “She’s hot for an old broad.”

  I capture her lips in a kiss.

  It’ll never get old, coming home to her.

  Sure, we’d been living together for a while before officially calling this what it is, but it didn’t feel just right until we stopped being afraid and took that next step.

  Now, it feels like Drew was always supposed to be here with me, like us being together was the plan all along.

  Drew begins to melt into me but catches herself at the last minute, pushing away.

  “Winston, we cannot be late.”

  “Then stop assaulting me so I can go shower.”

  “You kissed me!”

  “Then stop being so damn kissable.”

  She shoves me toward the bedroom. “Go. We have to leave in less than ten minutes!”

  “All right, all right. I’m going.” I pull my shirt over my head in the middle of the living room. “But just so you know, this”—I wave my hand over my body, making my pecs jump—“is what you’re missing out on.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yes, the lint stuck to your belly button hairs is getting me so wet right now. Moister than a damn oyster.”

  I glance down. “Well, fuck.”

  “Go shower. And for god’s sake, clean your damn belly button.”

  She shakes her head, heading down the hall to finish getting Riker ready, muttering the whole time about how she can’t believe she’s actually dating me.

  I beeline to the shower, jumping in and out in under five minutes.

  I’m tying my shoes just as Drew walks down the hall, ready to go.

  “Oh, good. You’re ready. Here, take this.” She hands me the diaper bag then the baby. “I have to go grab my hat real quick.”

  She disappears through the kitchen, presumably heading for the laundry room.

  I look down at Riker, who is already fighting sleep.

  “I know, little man. Mommy wears me out too.”

  He grins.

  “I heard that,” she says, coming back through the living room, checking her phone. “One minute to spare. Let’s do this.”

  We buckle into the car and head toward the culinary institute Drew’s been attending.

  Tonight, the students are hosting a special dinner for family and friends to celebrate the end of their first term. A three-course menu has been crafted and the entire night is treated like we’re sitting down at a high-end restaurant.

  We pull into the school with just five minutes to spare.

  “I’m heading in,” Drew says. “Wi
sh me luck!”

  She gives me a quick peck then presses a kiss to Riker’s head and races off for the pre-dinner meeting.

  I still have another half hour until I need to be in my seat, so I take my time getting inside.

  “Damn.” Wren whistles. “You clean up nice.”

  I hike Riker up on my waist as we approach Drew’s cheering section, which has gathered outside the doors. “I know.”

  “I was talking to my nephew,” she says, reaching for the baby.

  “Oh my god. I can’t believe we had to wear a suit and tie for this shit.” Foster grabs at his collar. “I’m dying right now.”

  “Quit being a baby. You look hot. I’d beat your cheeks.”

  My dad groans. “Wren, please. I’d like to keep my appetite for the night.”

  “Oh, please,” Beth says, “you’re just as bad as they are half the time with the things you say.”

  “When can we go in?” Sully asks. “I’m starving.”

  “I think we’re okay to go in now, but dinner doesn’t start for a bit.”

  “I hope they have bread,” he says, pulling open the doors.

  Soft music drifts through the speakers set up by a stage. They’re handing out a few awards before things get going, and I’ve got my fingers crossed Drew wins one.

  We find our table and take our seats.

  “Best seats in the house,” Foster says. “I hope that means we get food first.”

  “Did none of you eat today or something?” Dad comments.

  “I did,” my best friend says. “But I’ve been busting my ass out in the heat all day. I’m fucking ravenous.”

  “I’ve had Drew’s cooking before,” Sully comments. “No way I’m ruining my appetite and filling up on junk. I wanna enjoy this.”

  “Hey, you moved out on your own. You could have easily been enjoying her cooking all along.”

  Sully moved out a month after Drew and I made things official. We tried talking him out of it, but he waved us off and packed his things.

  As nice as it is having my room back and Riker in his own space, I kind of miss the hippie.

  “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,” he sulks, picking at the breadbasket in the middle of the table.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Drew’s instructor says into the microphone. “Our evening will begin shortly. If you could please take this time to use the restroom and turn off your cell phones, we’d appreciate your full attention for tonight’s event.”

  There’s a rustle around the room, chairs scraping back and people rushing off to the bathrooms.

  I grab Riker out of his high chair. “I’ll be right back. Gotta get this kiddo a fresh diaper real quick.”

  “I can take him,” Wren offers.

  “You sure?”

  She points to a growing belly. “I could use the practice.”

  She scoops Riker away from me and grabs his diaper bag before disappearing.

  I take my seat.

  “Man, it’s still so weird to see you acting all dad-like,” Foster comments.

  “It’s weird knowing you’re going to be a dad.”

  He gives me a dopey grin. “Isn’t it?”

  “It’s weird I’m going to be a grandpa,” my dad comments.

  “Not really,” I say. “You’re already as old as one. It just kind of makes sense.”

  Beth nearly spits out her water at the comment and my dad glares at her as she laughs.

  “What?” She smiles. “He’s not wrong.”

  “You are so close to walking home tonight.” He shakes his head at her, and she just lifts her shoulder, unafraid.

  “Don’t worry, Beth.” Sully winks. “I’ll give ya a ride home.”

  “Hey, watch it,” my dad says, eying my old roommate warily. “I might be old, but I can still fight like a spring chicken.”

  “Yeah, watch out, Sully—Dad might break out his cane and whip your ass with it.” Wren slides back into her chair with Riker. “I’m pretty sure Riker could take you, Dad.”

  “Only because I’d let him,” he says. “Here, let me hold him. I haven’t seen him all day.”

  “No way! It’s my turn.”

  “Actually, it’s my turn.” I steal Riker back.

  My dad laughs. “Just wait, Wren. Pretty soon you’re going to be begging people to hold your baby for you.”

  It’s true. She has no idea the long nights she’s in for. I didn’t come into Riker’s life until he was three months old so I missed a lot of the really long ones, but these last few months of teething and growing have been hell with everything else Drew and I are pushing through.

  Wren and Foster are in for some fun.

  There’s a tapping on the microphone, and we all turn our attention to the stage.

  “Thank you so much for being here with us tonight. Let’s all give a round of applause for our culinary students.”

  We stand and clap as Drew’s class files onto the stage.

  She blushes as we whistle and hoot, making much more noise than anyone else in the building.

  I wave Riker’s hand toward her, and Drew’s smile widens.

  “I know you’re all probably starving,” the instructor says as we take our seats again.

  “Famished,” Sully mutters.

  “So we’ll try to make the awards ceremony quick.”

  He flies through about five awards, and with each one, I see the hope in Drew’s eyes dim.

  She’s been working so hard these past few months. She doesn’t need an award to prove this is where she belongs, but I know she wants one.

  I want one for her too.

  “For our next award, we have the Ultimate Sacrifice Award. This award is given to the student who not only exemplifies excellence in the kitchen, always looking out for not just themselves but the other chefs and upholding the integrity of the kitchen, but who also pushes themselves outside of kitchen hours.”

  The instructor looks down the line of students.

  “Drew Eunice Woods, can you please step forward?”

  “Eunice?” Wren shouts. “No forking way! I would have never guessed that!”

  My twin falls into a fit of laughter and Drew shoots daggers at her, trying her hardest not to laugh and be embarrassed all at once.

  “Damn,” Foster says. “I had ten bucks on Amanda. I thought for sure she was screwing with us.”

  “I had twenty on something really generic like Anne or Lynn,” Sully broods, pulling his wallet out.

  “Pay up,” my dad says, giddy as hell. “Beth guessed it right all along.”

  “You guys bet on what her middle name is? You too, Beth?”

  “You hustled us?” Wren’s mouth drops open. “Damn, Dad, your girl has some big balls.”

  Beth shrugs. “I knew it from her application. Easy way to make some cash.”

  The instructor clears his throat and we all realize the entire room is staring at us.

  “I just want to make it clear I know none of these people,” my dad tells the crowd. “I’m with them.”

  He points to a random table, the occupants looking amongst one another, trying to figure out who invited him.

  We all bust out laughing.

  When we’ve finally settled down, Drew looks like she could murder us but also like she wants to hug us.

  “Right then,” the instructor continues, trying not to appear amused by our antics. “Drew, your fellow classmates nominated you for this award. Your dedication and strength in the kitchen are admirable, but more than that, your perseverance when you’re not here is something we can all aspire to. We know you have a little one at home and your boyfriend recently underwent surgery, and clearly you have a fairly exhausting group of friends to deal with.”

  “Tell me about it,” Drew says.

  “But no matter the hardships, you haven’t missed a single class and still go out of your way to help your fellow chefs. We just wanted to let you know we see you and appreciate you. We think you’ll ru
n a very tight kitchen one day, and we’re honored to have you.”

  We break into applause when she’s handed the award, and I’ve never been more proud of her than I am in this moment.

  “That concludes the awards for the evening. Chefs, you have a five-minute break before you’re to report to the kitchen.”

  The students disperse off the stage, and Drew heads right for us, looking annoyed and elated and amused all at once.

  “I can’t believe I invited you people.”

  “And by ‘you people’ you mean your favorite humans in the world, right?” Wren wraps her arms around Drew. “Congrats, Eunice.”

  She groans, hugging her back. “Shut up.”

  “Proud of you,” Foster says, giving her a quick hug.

  “Yeah, great job.” Sully puts an arm around her. “But listen, can you bring my food out first?”

  “Go eat some bread, Sullivan,” my dad says, stealing Drew away and squeezing her tight. “I’m very proud of you, kiddo.”

  “Thanks, Simon. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

  “You’d have gotten here eventually. I just gave ya a push.” He winks at her. “Eunice.”

  She rolls her eyes, and they land on me.

  I smile at her.

  “Dude, Riker,” I say, bending to him but not breaking eye contact with Drew. “Your mom is officially an award-winning chef. How lucky are we, huh?”

  She walks over to us, pinching her son’s cheeks. “Super lucky, because your skills in the kitchen are severely lacking.”

  “Hey, I can order a mean pizza.”

  “It doesn’t count when I have to make it.”

  “You don’t make it yet—you’re still on prep,” my dad interjects.

  With Drew now in culinary school, my dad finally let up and allowed her in the kitchen. Even though she’s not cooking yet, she’s delighted to be in a real-life kitchen, and it’s worth all the crazy hours she has to keep.

  “I’m proud of you,” I say quietly, wrapping one arm around her, Riker between us, my lips brushing against her ear.

  “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “Somehow, Drew, I doubt that.”

  “No, I’m being serious, Winston. I couldn’t have. If these last few months have taught me anything, it’s that I want you. Not just this, but you. I need you.”