Malcolm
Seeing Makenna in my kitchen cooking and making herself at home in my space is doing something to me.
After the texts with my family, and my da of all people saying, “You never know,” my resolve has been on a rollercoaster ride.
But now? Watching her is sending my brain into a montage of all sorts of imagined scenarios.
Makenna—here when I get home from work.
Makenna—relaxing with me on the back patio after a long night.
Makenna—playing cards with me by the woodstove on a cold winter day.
And the craziest of all, Makenna shooing a wee bairn out of the kitchen to keep them from being underfoot.
I’m struggling with the magnitude of it all, but I’ve never been so drawn to someone. And I’ve certainly never been tempted to leave Scotland for someone, but I think I’m willing to give this a shot, even if that’s where it would lead me.
I’m constantly looking for even the flimsiest excuse to touch her. I find myself drinking in her words and storing them somewhere deep within me. I’m not certain I’m not losing my mind.
“Malcolm?” Makenna is standing at the stove with her back to me, stirring the chocolate gravy. I have to pace myself as I hop up and head her way. She turns and looks at me over her shoulder and my gosh I want to take her picture. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this moment, even without a photo.
“You didn’t have to get up,” she says. “I only had a question.”
“I wanted to see what you were up to.” I step behind her and peek over her shoulder, my body brushing hers.
I hear a small intake of breath as she pauses her whisking, then she gives a little nervous laugh and I feel her relax.
I think she leans back into me just the slightest bit.
I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t so hyper-focused on every point of contact between us.
“I’m finishing the gravy.” Makenna swaps the whisk for a spoon and drags it through the gravy. The bottom of the pot appears in a trail behind her spoon; it looks thick. “It’s ready. Do you want to taste test?”
“Oh, aye. Of course, I do.” I take a small step back so she can turn around, then watch as she moves the pot off the heat and scoops up my bite.
Makenna turns. “Oh!” The nervous laugh makes another appearance. “I didn’t expect you to be so close.”
“I’m just excited for a taste.” I open my mouth and wait, and Makenna’s eyes widen in surprise. Growing up, I was always hungry, so I was often around the kitchen and became a taste tester for my mam. She always gave me a taste off her spoon, but now I realize this might be a bit different.
Still, Makenna raises the spoon to my mouth and feeds me my taste. Her turquoise eyes stay on mine as the molten lava annihilates the roof of my mouth.
“Crivvens!” I step to the sink and cup cold water into my mouth.
“Oh my gosh, Malcolm. I’m so sorry. I was going to blow on it but thought it would be weird. I thought you’d blow on it when I handed it to you, but then I didn’t hand it to you, and, honestly, my brain stopped working. I’m so sorry!” A tear escapes her eye.
Her tender heart is so precious.
I cut off the water and turn back to her. “I’m fine, lass.” I put my arm around her shoulders and squeeze. “Naught but a wee shock. The water fixed me right up.”
“Are you sure?” Makenna looks up at me, her eyes clear. Good.
“Yes. Totally fine. It will feel weird for a bit, but that’s nothing to complain about.”
“Well good. I’m still sorry for the shock, though.”
“Ach. It just keeps me on my toes. You’re a dangerous woman, lassie.” I smile and a laugh whooshes out of Makenna.
“Oh yes. Super dangerous.” She grins and she has nae idea just how dangerous that simple action is. “How do you like your eggs?”
“I like them all the ways, so whatever way you make them will be perfect.”
We sit at my little dining table, and the meal looks delicious. I’m grateful the gravy didny burn my tongue, because I want to be able to taste it all.
“Thank you again for this. You really didny have to.” Despite my earlier offerings to help, Makenna insisted on doing it herself.
“I wanted to give you a small thank you for everything. And I enjoy cooking, so it’s really not a big deal.”
“I don’t need a thank you dinner, but I appreciate it all the same.” Then I do something that I don’t think I’ve ever done. I lift my fork to her, as if toasting, only it’s my fork hovering in the air over our plates. Makenna, bless her, doesn’t miss a beat.
She raises her fork and taps it against mine with a grin. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I repeat. “I don’t know why I did that.”
Makenna shrugs and spears a bite of scrambled eggs. “I liked it. Let’s do it every time we eat.”
“Deal. Now I should try this scone with not boiling chocolate gravy.”
Makenna winces playfully, and I smile.
“You should call it a biscuit. So it’s more like the real experience,” she suggests.
“Alright.” I cut into my chocolate-covered scone and load my fork. “Here goes nothing, biscuit and chocolate gravy.”
And it’s surprisingly delicious. “Oh man. I had no idea it would be this good. I mean, there aren't many sweets I’d say I dislike, but this is truly very good. I can’t wait to tell Fiona about it. Her sweet tooth is bigger than mine.”
“I’m so happy you like it! It’s been a while since I’ve had it, so I’m excited.” She takes a bite and smiles as she chews.
“It’s not something you have often?” I ask.
“No. My Gram always made it if I spent the night with her and there were leftover biscuits from the night before. Now Gram’s gone, but Mom and I make it every so often.”
“Carrying on the tradition.”
“Yes. I like to think she’s in heaven having her own biscuits and chocolate gravy.”
This woman makes me smile more than I’m used to.
“What would heaven be without biscuits and chocolate gravy?”