He Comes to the Kitchen, She Comes In a Sundress

Arnold knows what my body wants today. That's why he kissed my forehead this morning instead of my mouth. That's why he's outside tending his smokers while I'm inside making his favorite sides for his birthday barbecue, pressing my thighs together and counting the hours until tonight.

He's patient. He's careful. He's the best man I've ever known.

His best friend Peter is none of those things.

When Peter follows me into the kitchen, I tell myself I'll send him back outside. I tell myself the heat is from the oven, that the flush on my skin is from the July sun, that the way my body responds when he stands too close is just hormones and bad timing and nothing I can't control.

I tell myself a lot of things while I'm bent over that sink.

Arnold's birthday party is still going on in the backyard. I can see him through the window.

What Arnold can't see is the smut in the kitchen, the cobbler can see though.