Chapter 11
She landed on pizza.
It was the easiest option, so she set the oven, sat down at the kitchen island, and checked the news.
It wasn’t looking good.
The snow wasn’t letting up, and there were photos sent in from all around the city with frozen car doors, icicles, and almost three feet of snow everywhere.
The snowplows were having a hard time getting around, and what was the point when the snow kept falling?
It was getting too risky for them to be out there.
There was a time in her life when the only thing she’d asked Santa for was snow. I guess Santa saved up all my childhood wishes for this moment.
She definitely wasn’t going to San Diego anytime soon. And with the state of things, it didn’t seem like she’d be going anywhere. No restaurants were open, and it seemed very few grocery stores were open. For now, she’d have to make whatever random items she had in the kitchen last.
She popped the pizza in the oven and opened up Instagram. All she saw in her feed was snow, as if the blizzard was taunting her. It seemed everyone in Chicago wanted to make sure the world remembered what three feet of snow looked like.
Without thinking, she started typing Chance’s name in the search bar. She wasn’t sure why she was torturing herself, but she chalked it up to the fact that it was exactly a year ago he admitted to sleeping with Diana.
She clicked on his story and saw the pair in matching Santa hats and ugly Christmas sweaters, cheersing mugs of hot chocolate.
As much as Paige was over Chance, she’d always loved how much he got into the holiday spirit.
He had always matched her and her family’s enthusiasm for Christmas, something she really missed, especially considering Carter’s attitude about it all.
As if on cue, she heard his voice behind her. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Startled, Paige quickly locked her phone before saying, “Has no one ever told you it’s rude to snoop?”
“Who’s in the photo?”
“What?” she replied.
“You were staring at that picture for a long time,” Carter said. “So, who’s in it?”
“Well, I’m not surprised you don’t recognize Santa when you see him, given you are the literal Grinch.” Paige hoped Carter would take the bait and drop it.
“Haha. You know avoiding the answer is only making this more interesting. Who is it?” he pressed, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Not that it is any of your business, but it’s my ex and his new girlfr—uh, fiancée.”
Carter opened his mouth to speak again just as the pizza timer went off.
“Well, look at that,” Paige said. “That’s all the time we had for questions. Thanks for participating.”
She got up and took the pizza out of the oven, found the pizza cutter, and grabbed plates, willing herself to look busy so Carter wouldn’t ask any follow-up questions.
And he didn’t.
She wasn’t sure if the sting in her chest was from thinking about Chance and their breakup anniversary, or from Carter not caring to know more. After their banter earlier, she was finally feeling like maybe—just maybe—his icy exterior was just a front.
She slid a plate with two pizza slices over to him.
“Thanks,” Carter said with a soft smile. “Oh, and also, thanks for sharing your food with me. I never cook—pretty much only rely on takeout—so this blizzard really bit me in the ass.”
“Don’t mention it. I always meant to treat you to a frozen pizza, remember?” Paige nudged his shoulder as she took the seat next to him at the island. He was almost done with his first piece.
They sat in silence for a minute before she continued, “I mean, I know you have barely touched the kitchen here, but you seriously never cook?”
“Never,” Carter said, finishing off his second slice. “There’s one thing I know how to make and that’s it. Otherwise, I’ve just always had someone else cooking for me, whether it was my mom, restaurants . . . friends.”
Paige noticed the pause before the last word. She almost thought it was like he was trying to decide what he wanted to say. The thought of him being fresh out of a breakup popped back into her mind, but she brushed it off. I just mentioned my ex, I’m sure he would mention his too.
“Well, that is just sad. Cooking and baking can be so therapeutic and fun.” Paige elbowed him playfully. “I did a lot of baking after my breakup. It helped me think and process.”
“Eh, I don’t feel like I’m missing much,” Carter replied with a sarcastic smile.
“Well, that settles it then,” Paige blurted out. “We’re baking cookies.”
“Finally a Christmas activity I can fully support,” he teased.
Paige finished her last slice in a couple more bites and immediately got to work getting the leftover pizza in the fridge, putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and gathering up all the ingredients for cookies. Thankfully, the oven was already preheated from the pizza.
Carter stood around the island awkwardly. Man, he really never spends time in a kitchen, Paige thought to herself.
After a minute, he started wiping some crumbs into his hand. Paige couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to help clean up.
“So,” she started, “what is the one meal you make?”
He hesitated. “You need to promise not to make fun of me for this.”
“You have my word,” she said mockingly, holding her hands to her heart.
“Pancakes.” His tone was completely serious.
“Pancakes? Twisty. Why pancakes?”
“Well,” he started, “that’s the only thing my dad taught me to make. To be fair, it was the only thing he knew how to make. But when I say they are the best pancakes . . .” His voice trailed off.
Was. Past tense.
“Okay, so what makes these pancakes so special?” she asked, genuinely curious about how pancakes could possibly differ that much from one batch to another.
“It’s all in the little things,” he said.
He looked like he was drifting off into a memory.
“Sure, there are some unique ingredients, but it’s about the order you put them in the bowl, how fast you whisk them together, when you flip the pancake.
Most people don’t give these a second thought, but they matter. ”
She had to try to keep her composure. If this sensitive guy standing across from her was the Carter that had showed up to the roommate interview that day, or the Carter that had moved into her condo a few weeks ago, she would surely have fallen head over heels by now.
“That’s actually pretty interesting,” she said. “Your dad . . . was a smart guy?” She turned the statement into a question in an effort to learn more about Carter’s past.
“Yeah, he was. He died five years ago,” Carter said, confirming her suspicions. “Car accident.”
“I’m sorry, Carter. Were you guys close?”
“Yeah, yeah, we were. But it’s all good.” He shrugged, but she could still see some pain lingering in his eyes.
“Oh, by the way,” he said, seeming to want to move on from the topic. “I’m sorry about your flight getting cancelled. I’m sure you were looking forward to going home.”
Again with the sensitivity. This version of Carter may very well end me.
“Thanks. I’m bummed to miss time with my family, but at least the snow got me out of the company Christmas party,” she confessed.
“Yeah, but it’s a shame that dress didn’t get its time to shine.” Carter ran his hand through his hair and avoided eye contact with her.
Paige blushed and let out a giggle. “Actually, you’re right. That is the one loss from it all. I was looking forward to seeing my ex’s reaction to that little number.”
Carter furrowed his brow in confusion. “Wait, I thought you said this was a company party? Do you work with your ex?”
“Yup. Well, I mean, we both work at the same company, in different departments, thank goodness. We met there.”
“I see.” Carter said, processing this information.
“He was going to be there with his new fiancée, who—get this—he cheated on me with. She was a new hire at our company. He confessed to sleeping with her at last year’s Christmas party. And they just got engaged on Thanksgiving, so I’ve been on the receiving end of looks of pity for weeks.”
Carter was momentarily speechless, staring at Paige with a look of awe.
“Let me get this straight—you were going to show up at this party in front of your idiot ex and petty colleagues all by yourself? In that dress?”
Paige wasn’t sure if he thought she was insane or badass, but when he let out a laugh and shook his head, it confirmed he was at least a little bit impressed. She felt her face heating up and quickly changed the subject.
“When was the last time you made them?” she asked. “The pancakes.”
“Hmm, probably like three years ago now. Back when I was trying to woo my last girlfriend,” he said with a wink.
“Ahh, I see. The perfect trick for getting girls into bed. Make them pancakes,” Paige said with a smile.
“Well, technically it was my move to get them back into bed with me,” Carter confessed. “I’d get up in the morning, feed a girl my famous pancakes, and it usually charmed them enough for . . . seconds.”
“Men are so gross.” Paige rolled her eyes.
He gave a casual shrug. Paige’s mind turned back to Carter’s original answer to her question.
He had said it was three years since he had made them, and then the words “last girlfriend.” Was he recently single, or did he just happen to grow out of his playboy phase?
She wanted to know the answer but didn’t want to scare him off while they were actually having a good conversation.
“Okay, so . . . cookies?” she asked, breaking from her thoughts. “You can help me measure out what we need while I get everything mixed together.”
He got up from the chair and made his way around the island. As he reached for the measuring cups, his hand brushed her arm, and just like the other night by the trash can, she felt something like electricity pass between them.
Did he feel it too? She wondered. They spent the next few minutes mostly in silence while they worked in tandem, reading off the go-to chocolate chip cookie recipe Paige kept on her phone.