the necessary supplies.
“No, it’s not my period.” If only it were as easy as blaming biology. “I have to tell you something.”
“You can tell me anything,” he reaffirmed as he slid the chair out at the kitchen table and sat down while extending an arm as invitation for me to do likewise.
“It’s stupid, really.”
“Nothing upsetting you this badly is stupid.”
I took a deep breath. It was better to spill it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“I failed my first assignment.”
Giano laughed a full-belly laugh. His smile was infectious, gorgeous, and all consuming. I couldn’t help smiling back at him.
“Did you think I would be angry?”
I bit my bottom lip and simply nodded my head, my smile falling.
His smile moved to a stern frown as his dark eyes danced in a mischievous way that only made my insides quiver in fear and something else altogether. “Because I am,” he barked out at me.
Tears filled my eyes as all of my apprehension of the day washed over me. I sat, unmoving and silent.
“What did you fail when failure is not an option for us?”
Breathing deeply, I said, “I failed a culinary assignment today in school.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Well, this is Intro to Culinary Arts. We went over restaurant planning and managing the house in the first quarter. Now we began cooking basics,” I tried to explain.
“So cooking, like home economics type of cooking?”
“Well, no, restaurant cooking. Since this was a basic assignment, Sister Mack felt we should bake an apple pie from scratch. We had to incorporate knife skills into the pastry skills we learned last week when we made cookies, bread loaves, and turnovers using a canned pie filling. With this assignment, we had to peel and core our own apples as well as cook our filling over the stovetop along with making our pie crust.”
Giano studied me intently. “And you failed this how?”
“First, I forgot the measurements on the flour for the pie crust, so rather than flakey, mine was dry. Then I broke the apple corer before I could finish prepping my apples. I got so mixed up with what I was doing afterward that I forgot to add brown sugar—okay, sugar period—to my mixture of butter and spices with the apples.
“After pouring the messed up semi-caramel apple pieces into the overly dry crust, I managed to only rip four of my lattice work top pieces before putting it in the oven where I caught it on fire due to drippings. Sister Mack felt that my inability to overcome my first catastrophe and then allow myself to lose focus was a solid reason to fail me on the assignment.”
Without allowing me to continue, Giano burst out laughing once again. “My poor, angel, you can’t cook.”
“This isn’t funny. I failed, Giano. Big, fat F—failed.”
“I can’t believe it.” Then he paused and took a serious face once again. “This is my failure. I haven’t spent any time with you in the kitchen, so how can you be expected to cook? We must rectify this immediately.”
Hopping up, Giano moved to the refrigerator and quickly brought out apples. He washed them and moved to the island where he set out bowls and began pulling out the dry ingredients necessary.
“Come on, angel. We have work to do.”
Moving beside him, I washed my hands and waited. First, he grabbed an apron out of the drawer. Facing me, he draped it over my neck before reaching behind me to the strings. Crossing them behind me, he pulled each one at my side, tugging me closer to him. In order to catch myself, I had to reach up and hold steady against his chest. I could feel his heart beating beneath me, and I felt my own beat harder as I inhaled his scent.
Once he knotted the strings in front of me, he pulled the hair tie off my wrist that I always wore and proceeded to turn me around. As he took my hair in his hands, his fingertips brushed the curve of my neck, which sent shivers through me. With my hair secure, he then went to the sink and
“No, it’s not my period.” If only it were as easy as blaming biology. “I have to tell you something.”
“You can tell me anything,” he reaffirmed as he slid the chair out at the kitchen table and sat down while extending an arm as invitation for me to do likewise.
“It’s stupid, really.”
“Nothing upsetting you this badly is stupid.”
I took a deep breath. It was better to spill it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“I failed my first assignment.”
Giano laughed a full-belly laugh. His smile was infectious, gorgeous, and all consuming. I couldn’t help smiling back at him.
“Did you think I would be angry?”
I bit my bottom lip and simply nodded my head, my smile falling.
His smile moved to a stern frown as his dark eyes danced in a mischievous way that only made my insides quiver in fear and something else altogether. “Because I am,” he barked out at me.
Tears filled my eyes as all of my apprehension of the day washed over me. I sat, unmoving and silent.
“What did you fail when failure is not an option for us?”
Breathing deeply, I said, “I failed a culinary assignment today in school.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Well, this is Intro to Culinary Arts. We went over restaurant planning and managing the house in the first quarter. Now we began cooking basics,” I tried to explain.
“So cooking, like home economics type of cooking?”
“Well, no, restaurant cooking. Since this was a basic assignment, Sister Mack felt we should bake an apple pie from scratch. We had to incorporate knife skills into the pastry skills we learned last week when we made cookies, bread loaves, and turnovers using a canned pie filling. With this assignment, we had to peel and core our own apples as well as cook our filling over the stovetop along with making our pie crust.”
Giano studied me intently. “And you failed this how?”
“First, I forgot the measurements on the flour for the pie crust, so rather than flakey, mine was dry. Then I broke the apple corer before I could finish prepping my apples. I got so mixed up with what I was doing afterward that I forgot to add brown sugar—okay, sugar period—to my mixture of butter and spices with the apples.
“After pouring the messed up semi-caramel apple pieces into the overly dry crust, I managed to only rip four of my lattice work top pieces before putting it in the oven where I caught it on fire due to drippings. Sister Mack felt that my inability to overcome my first catastrophe and then allow myself to lose focus was a solid reason to fail me on the assignment.”
Without allowing me to continue, Giano burst out laughing once again. “My poor, angel, you can’t cook.”
“This isn’t funny. I failed, Giano. Big, fat F—failed.”
“I can’t believe it.” Then he paused and took a serious face once again. “This is my failure. I haven’t spent any time with you in the kitchen, so how can you be expected to cook? We must rectify this immediately.”
Hopping up, Giano moved to the refrigerator and quickly brought out apples. He washed them and moved to the island where he set out bowls and began pulling out the dry ingredients necessary.
“Come on, angel. We have work to do.”
Moving beside him, I washed my hands and waited. First, he grabbed an apron out of the drawer. Facing me, he draped it over my neck before reaching behind me to the strings. Crossing them behind me, he pulled each one at my side, tugging me closer to him. In order to catch myself, I had to reach up and hold steady against his chest. I could feel his heart beating beneath me, and I felt my own beat harder as I inhaled his scent.
Once he knotted the strings in front of me, he pulled the hair tie off my wrist that I always wore and proceeded to turn me around. As he took my hair in his hands, his fingertips brushed the curve of my neck, which sent shivers through me. With my hair secure, he then went to the sink and
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