"You're early."
"Aurora said seven."
"Aurora says lots of things." She turned back to the stove and adjusted the heat on the left burner. Whatever was in that pot smelled like garlic, butter, and something with real heat to it. The right pot held pasta water at a rolling boil.
A cutting board on the counter displayed diced tomatoes, fresh basil, and what looked like hand-sliced prosciutto arranged with the organizational care of someone who named their kitchen knives.
"I told her seven-thirty because I'm not serving half-cooked pasta to a guy who showed up before the sauce reduced."
"So I'm thirty minutes early to a dinner I didn't know was happening."
"Now you're catching on." She pulled the lollipop from her mouth, examined it, and put it back. "Aurora, did you tell him I was cooking?"
"I told him to bring chocolate."
"That's not the same thing."
"It's adjacent."
