WEDDING

“Are you cooking, Ashley?” I asked as I put my hands on her h*ps and kissed her.

“Yes, and you’re going to eat it, whether you like it or not,” she smiled.

“I’ll eat anything from you,” I winked. She hit me on the arm and turned to the oven. I grabbed a couple of glasses, filled them with wine, and set them on the table. Steph took a chicken pot pie out of the oven and set it in the middle of the table.

“My mom used to make this for my dad and me. It was his favorite. I’ve kept the recipe with me all these years. I started making it for him when I was only nine years old,” she said as she sat down across from me.

“You cooked dinner for your father at the age of nine?” I asked.

“It was either that, or he didn’t eat. I always knew that would be the one dish he would eat.”

I looked at her and shook my head. I couldn’t believe that drunken bastard would let his child cook and use the oven at the age of nine. I needed to tell her about Ashley, and I guess now’s as good as time as any. I de