all?”
I hesitated. “Well, not really. I don’t miss eating meat, but I do miss some of the social constructs around meals that include meat. Like Thanksgiving. The entire holiday for my family revolves around dishes I don’t eat. And parties with my friends that involve things like wings or sliders—Super Bowl parties aren’t the same.” I realized what I’d just said and winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”
“Emma.” Noah rolled his eyes. “The fact that my team didn’t make the big game is a disappointment, yes, but it’s hardly the worst thing I’ve experienced in life. You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject.”
“Point taken,” I laughed. “But while we’re talking about it . . . how are you doing, a week out from that last playoff game?”
His forehead wrinkled, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my question or because he was focusing on cutting the broccoli. “I’m fine. I wish the score had been different at the end of the night, but it wasn’t.” He laid down the knife and turned to face me. “One of my college coaches had a great philosophy about football. He always told us that two teams go in as winners, but only one team can come out the same way. However, it’s our choice as to whether or not we walk out of the stadium as losers, no matter what the scoreboard says. Losing is an attitude, just like winning is. Last week, we dominated on defense. We kept the score down. Unfortunately, Denver’s defense was also on point, and their offense worked just a little bit harder than ours did. That’s what happened.”
“That’s a sickeningly healthy way to look at it.” I nudged him, grinning. “You’re so mature and evolved. Shouldn’t you be, like, yelling and smashing furniture in disappointment?”
Noah smirked. “I can be that guy if you want, but I don’t see the point of it. Especially now that we’ve finally got the cabin just the way you like it.”
He was right. My home felt exactly as I’d hoped it would now: it was warm and opening, cozy and inviting, and I was comfortable whether I was here by myself or with all of my friends hanging out.
“So true. Oh, and guess what? Jimmy came over today, and we planted pigeon peas and green beans. Also, he told me that some of the bushes I was going to dig up and throw away—they’re not really weeds. Well, they are, but they produce a berry I can use in jellies. It’s called beauty berry. Who knew?”
“That’s very cool. And it was nice of Jimmy to come help you.”
“Yep. I don’t want to feel like his help is a one-sided deal, so I’m trading days of work—for every day that he helps me out here, I’m going to work on his farm, too, probably a little later in the season when he needs more hands for the harvest and packaging for markets.” Jimmy had told me that I didn’t need to do that, since he was happy to offer me advice and information, but I was stubborn—I didn’t want charity, even from my friends.
“That was nice of you, too.” Noah turned toward the sink, rinsing off first his knife and then his hands. “These are all set.”
“Thanks.” I dumped all of the prepped veggies into my roasting pan, added oil and seasoning, and slid it into the oven. “All right. These need about twenty minutes or so . . . and the aioli is already made—”
“And delicious.”
“And delicious, if I do say so myself,” I agreed. “We’re finished for now. Want to take our wine onto the back deck?”
“If my wine can be a beer, I’m sold.”
“Help yourself.” I grinned at him, shaking my head. “I guess you can take the boy out of Wisconsin, but not the Wisconsin out of the boy.”
“Hey, there are plenty of sophisticated types in my home state,” Noah objected as he popped open his beer. “I can even be one of them, when I’m in the mood. But tonight feels like a beer night.”
We carried our drinks onto the deck, one of my favorite parts of my cabin. Jenny and Nico had given me a patio set as a house-warming gift; it was second-hand, because they knew my passion for re-purposing, and Jenny had made all new cushions for the two chairs that flanked a re-finished table and for the cozy wicker loveseat.
Noah sank onto one side of that small