My old grill out on the deck was covered by a tarp, an old tatty tarp which was good because the gas grill was older and tattier. It destroyed my whole deck vision with my wrought iron furniture and flowers so it was hidden in a corner. Tim had meant to build me a built-in grill in our backyard. He had it all planned, even bought the bricks he was going to use but he died before he could do it.
“You’re buying a new grill?” I asked and Kate smiled at a smiling Keira.
“Buddy, don’t even wanna look under that tarp,” Joe answered.
“It’s not pretty, but it works.”
“A man’s gotta have the grill he’s gotta have,” Joe told me.
“What?”
“I’m not grillin’ chops on a shitty grill,” Joe said instead of repeating himself but I was stuck on the idea of Joe grilling anything.
“You’re grillin’ the chops?” I asked.
He sounded somewhat impatient when he replied, “Vi, I go to the grocery store, I grill chops. I’m a guy but I gotta eat and you get food at the store and guys grill meat, that’s what we do.”
“So you know how to grill?” I asked hesitantly.
“You know how Vinnie taught Benny how to make a pie?” Joe asked me.
“Yeah.”
“Well, my Dad could do one thing good, grill, and he taught me how to do it. So, yeah, I can grill.”
“Okay.”
“We done talkin’?”
“Um… how long are you gonna be?”
“A lot longer, we’re not done talkin’.”
I smiled at the phone then told him, “The girls and me may be at the store when you get back.”
“Be a fool’s errand since I took your list with me.”
“You’re goin’ to the store?” I breathed, thinking both of rugged alpha male Joe roaming the aisles of a grocery store (which was shocking in itself and I’d already faced this impossibility the day before, but it was such an impossibility it was worthy of further emotion) and of the fact I didn’t have to go to the grocery store (which was a welcome change).
“Shit,” he muttered into the phone, clearly not wanting to have the grocery store discussion again.
“Okay, buy a grill, go to the store, be domestic,” I said quickly, “just don’t forget the custard.”
“I won’t forget.”
“See you later.”
“Yeah,” then he called, “Vi?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“It’s all good.”
“What?”
“Us,” he said, I got that winded feeling again, liking the idea of “us”, liking that he knew to get me, he got the girls and he wanted that and he wanted that to be good and he went on. “Girls’re home, we’re together, it’s all good. Now you gonna relax, baby?”
I tipped my head to the side and whispered, “Yeah.”
“Be home soon.”
Yes, he would and I liked that most of all.
“Yeah,” I whispered, “later, honey.”
“Later, buddy.”
I slid my phone closed and looked at my girls.
“We’re getting a new grill,” I announced and they both smiled.
*
Joe and Dane didn’t buy a grill.
They bought the grill to end all grills. It took them an hour to set it up on my deck. It was gleaming and huge and totally went with my deck vision.
Then they loaded up the old, tatty grill and took it to the dump.
Then they came back and Joe grilled chops. We ate his chops with my homemade potato salad and blanched green beans tossed in sesame dressing. We finished this with my homemade hot fudge sundaes with huge squirts of whipped cream, chopped nuts and a cherry.
Joe was not wrong. His father must have been the master grill artist like Vinnie was a master pizza maker. Joe’s grilled chops were the best, even better than Tim’s and Tim could man a grill.
We ate on the deck.
All afternoon and evening, pretending to have stuff to do in her backyard but really being nosy, Tina came out every once in awhile to watch this activity, the grill building, the chop cooking, the family eating on the deck.
Tina didn’t look happy about Joe’s sudden domestication.
Revenge was sweet.
*
“Buddy?” Joe called when we were in bed, I was in his tee, my cheek to his chest, his heart beating in my ear and I was half asleep.
“Yeah?”
“That first time, shoulda made me a hot fudge sundae.”
My head came up and I looked in the direction of his face even though I couldn’t really see him because it was dark.
“What?”
“Before I fucked you over the first time, you shoulda made me a hot fudge sundae.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t have fucked you over. I woulda taken you to Vegas.”
“Vegas?”
“Married you, Vi,” he said, sounding like he was close to laughing.
“What?” I breathed.
“They’re that good.”
“What are?”
His hand curled around the back of my head and he urged, definitely laughing now, “Stick with me here, honey. Your sundaes. They’re that good.”
My sundaes were good, I loved my sundaes. The hot fudge was Bea’s recipe but I made it better simply by putting in a bit of cinnamon.
Still, I asked, “You wouldn’t have told me you were done with me if I’d made you a sundae, instead, you would have married me?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you tryin’ to piss me off when I’m half asleep?”
“Just givin’ you a head’s up on what’ll keep me happy.”
I pushed up higher. “You are tryin’ to piss me off when I’m half asleep.”