and wrap my arms around his neck. “I don’t understand how, but I’m so happy for you.”
“For us,” he corrects.
“No way,” Monica says from where she stands on the other side of the pool table. “You guys got the show?”
Desmond nods, not taking his eyes from mine. “Faye showed them some footage from a class her crew taped a couple weeks ago and it was a done deal. You’re still doing this with me, right? You’re okay with it?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Yes.” Whatever fear held me back from getting in front of the camera again simply doesn’t exist anymore. Not when I’m with Desmond. “Look at that. All your dreams are about to come true.”
He smiles and leans in to touch his nose to mine. “No, Mags. All my dreams came true when I met you.”
40
Permanent
Maggie
Music plays from the overhead speakers, a mixture of eighties pop, nineties rock, and today’s favorites. Desmond and I spent the entire night before putting together a playlist we thought everyone would enjoy, and so far, there aren’t any complaints.
Between Desmond, Zach, Monica, and I, we invited over thirty people to join us today. Chloe and Gavin are here with the young girl with the red curls I saw dancing it up at the wedding, along with Jazz and her husband Marco.
Zach’s mom, Rebecca, and brother, Ryan, showed up too and are currently seated on the couches talking with my dad, his wife, and two young girls. Ryan is the spitting image of his older brother, though a couple inches taller and thinner. Apparently he’s some big-wig baseball player who just turned pro. I don’t know how Rebecca did it, but she managed to raise two great men all on her own.
Some of Zach’s teammates showed up, too, including Balko, who is currently hitting on a very intrigued Phoebe. That’s a bit awkward, considering Phoebe and Justin used to date and Justin is somewhere in the room too.
Sandy, the owner of BelleCurve Creative, is perusing the artwork around the kitchen with her husband. I recently found out she’s a good friend of my dad’s and Zach’s. She’s also the reason Monica gets to go to a fancy art school tuition free.
While everyone mingles, Monica and I keep busy in the kitchen. She’s on turkey and stuffing duty, while I tackle most of the sides. I’ve made all the traditional ones, freshly prepared with ingredients from Pike Place Market. We also added the extras that Monica and I thought would be fun to throw in, like our grandma’s favorite Southern-baked macaroni and cheese, and a simple turnip au gratin.
All in all, I would say we’re kicking ass in the kitchen, but Desmond refused to let us do everything alone, so I put him in charge of setting the tables and playing bartender for the evening.
“Another Maggie special,” Desmond says as he carries over a fresh drink. He winks and sets it down in front of me. “On the house.”
I laugh. He started calling my vodka sodas Maggie specials because I always ask for three limes. “I think I’ve earned my keep today.”
“Food’s not done yet, but… ” His eyes roam over the kitchen counters to where we’ve started gathering and reheating some of the dishes. “Nothing’s burning. No one’s sliced a finger. No lobsters have died. I’m going to say things are heading in the right direction.”
I scoff. “You shouldn’t have expected less.”
He flashes me a grin. “I’m learning quickly.” His eyes flicker down and catch on the text of my apron, which reads “Boss of the Sauce” in glittery rose gold letters.
He tosses his head back and laughs. “At least this one is appropriate for a family gathering.”
I grin, remembering that day in class when he refused to give me a cooking certificate. I was wearing a similar apron with much filthier language.
His eyes bulge wide when they catch on something else on the apron. “Wait a second. That’s the Edible Desire logo.”
I stick my tongue between my teeth and grin. “Monica made it. Actually, she made a bunch of them.”
Monica’s ears perk up at the sound of her name and she bounces over to stand next to me. Her apron reads “Dessert First,” and there’s a strawberry beneath it, dripping with chocolate. “Are you talking about my aprons? They’re cute, right? I think we should sell them.”
Desmond blinks wide. “We?”
“Well, yeah.” Monica looks at me and twists her face to tell me Desmond is crazy not to understand. “I can design you an