53. The Cheese Math

My stomach’s own grumbling wakes me up. 

I roll over, ready to stumble toward the kitchen, and it hits me: the smell. 

God! I have to cover my mouth, the stench is so bad I can taste it. 

I guess that’s what happens when my airport plans go to hell. 

My stomach feels like it’s going to start eating itself, but a shower has to come first. It just has to. 

I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and take in the room around me for the first time. 

Cream walls, surprisingly modern and colorful art, and dark wood furniture make up the room. My backpack leans against the closet door, and I move to go grab it and fish out the clean jeans and blouse I stuffed in there, along with the basic bathroom essentials, when something at the end of the bed catches my eye. 

A set of silk pajamas. 

My heart melts. The closet full of clothes all my size back at the townhouse comes back to me, and tears start to sting my eyes for what has to be the millionth time in the last two days. 

Get a hold of yourself, Sachs! I scold myself. This is a happy weekend. You can’t be crying the whole time! 

I dash away the few tears that managed to fall, gather up the fine silk, and head to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s attached to the room, so no one has to see me in this state. 

Miranda already did. 

The thought stops me mid step. 

The phantom sensation of her hand on my arm and back tingles, and my cheeks go hot. 

I cried like a baby. 

In Miranda’s arms. 

She put me to bed. She practically tucked me in! 

I shake myself out of my embarrassed paralysis. I can’t think about this now. Shower, food, then think about how to find a genie to erase that whole scene from Miranda’s memory. 

The shower is luxurious, and my god, it’s never felt so good to wash my hair! When I can’t smell the dried sweat anymore, replaced by light, citrus smelling shampoo and body wash, I finally get out and let myself dry off. 

Eventually, dry with hair combed and loosely braided, and snug in the silk pajamas, I make my way to the kitchen. 

It takes a minute to find it, since I have no sense of direction in this place. Though the scent of warming bread sure does help. 

I walk into the kitchen and the first thing I see is Miranda. Her profile is to me, and she’s still in the clothes I remember her wearing before my epic breakdown. At least that means I haven’t been out for too long. Part of me still wants to hide in embarrassment, but another part of me is too stunned to move. Once again, I see Miranda at work in a kitchen, and even though I’ve seen it before, it still doesn’t feel real. 

I still haven’t decided what to do when my stomach decides for me with a grumble heard across the world. 

Miranda turns to the sound, and the smallest smile reaches her lips when she sees it’s me. 

“Perfect timing,” she declares, turning back to the stove. “The soup is ready to serve, and the grilled cheese is nearly done. Can you grab the bowls?”

I move on autopilot toward the cabin she pointed out. Being busy, grabbing bowls, silverware, and glasses, helps the embarrassment die down, at least for now. 

“Grilled cheese?” I ask while setting the table. “I can’t say I was expecting that. Oh, and should I set the table for four?”

“No, the girls are on a tour of the Deutsches Museum for the afternoon with the nanny.” Miranda slips two sandwiches from the pan to some plates and joins me at the table. 

“As for the dish, the girls demanded it for their pre-birthday dinner.” Miranda’s eye roll sparkles with humor and affection. “Apparently it’s the current fad at school. I’m thinking of this as a test run before they get back.”

I smile and examine my sandwich. It’s perfectly golden brown, bringing back memories of another grilled cheese from my past, and I can’t hold back a snort. 

Miranda raises an eyebrow, and I rush to explain. 

“I had this ex-boyfriend.” Why does this feel so weird? “He was in New York to become a chef. He was in culinary school, and would tell us all how to test if a fry was really perfect or not.” This time it’s me rolling my eyes, as I settle into the story. 

“Anyway, after my first day at Runway…”

My breath catches in my throat at the conspiratorial look Miranda sends my way. I have to clear my throat. 

“After my first day at Runway, he was making grilled cheese.” My smile stretches even further across my face, making my cheeks pinch. “I swear, I’ve never seen bread so burnt! There was no way I was going to eat it, I’m pretty sure it would’ve flaked to ash in my mouth.”

Miranda grimaces, as if imagining the taste. 

“But I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I told him I just wasn’t hungry, and set it aside, and…”

I start laughing. 

“And he–” 

I can’t stop laughing! I take a few breaths to get a hold of myself. 

“He rushed over and grabbed the plate, saying, and I swear this is verbatim, ‘No no no no, give me that, there’s like eight dollars of Jarlsberg in there!’”

I fully descend into laughter remembering the ridiculousness of that whole scene. 

There’s a snort from across the table, and I immediately feel like I’ve won the Olympics. I look up to see Miranda’s grin shift to something more contemplative. 

“Eight dollars of Jarlsberg,” she repeats. “That doesn’t sound right. How much cheese is that?”

“Right?” Finally, someone gets it! “It was one sandwich, and I saw the shopping bills. Eight dollars would have been an entire pound of cheese!”

Miranda sits back in her chair, looking off to the side, clearly thinking. 

“So,” she starts. “He might have exaggerated how much the cheese in the sandwich was worth … but it was burnt.” She meets my eyes and shakes her head in dread. “No. No, he couldn’t have.”

I nod, holding back another round of laughter. 

“I think so. I think he might have put an entire pound of cheese in the sandwich.” Tears, ones of laughter this time, start welling up in my eyes. “And that much cheese wouldn’t melt, so it burned instead.”

For a long moment, Miranda and I stare across the table at each other. Then, Miranda lifts a hand to cover her mouth. A snort escapes anyway. 

This time, we both descend into laughter, the peels of it ringing through the room. It’s the lightest I’ve felt in ages.