THE WOMAN BEFORE

Chapter 7

R O S I N A

     I’M NOT MUCH of a cook, but Evans is coming over, and I want to make his favorite meal. I’ve never done any French dish before, but PÂTÉ DE CHOU is Evans’ favorite, and I want to give him a big surprise. Even with a recipe book and from watching tons of YouTube videos, I’m still not confident I’ll get it right. Evans has enjoyed my hand-made foods for a while now, but none of them have been a French dish. I don’t know why he got obsessed with this food when he went overseas on a business trip. What I do know is that he likes it, and I’m certain it’s going to make him very happy tonight.

     Tracing my finger along the procedures in the recipe book, I place it aside and preheat the oven, setting it at 425°F as indicated in the book. The Youtuber set hers at 400°F, but I’ll go with the recipe book. Next, I thoroughly wash the cabbage and cook it in boiling water. I cut the butter, put it into a saucepan, add water, milk, and a little salt, then heat the mixture.

     Returning to the recipe book, I glance at the next step and take that in. I tend to the cabbage. It’s tender now. I take it off and drain it. Once the butter is boiling, I lift it from the heat and add the flour, then stir till the mixture forms a smooth cohesive ball.

     I set the mixture into another bowl, and let it cool, adding the eggs minutes later, then I mix the dough. The continuous beeps of my phone echo in the kitchen. Stretching a hand, I snatch it from the counter and settle it under my ear, supporting it with my shoulder.

     “Hello!”

     “Hi. How’s it goin’?”

     Focusing on the mixing, I reply, “Good. I’m praying I don’t mess it up at the eleventh hour.”

     Lauren giggles. “Trust me, you won’t. Evans will love it.”

     “I hope so.”

     “Hey, I told Jacob about the job. He’s excited.”

     “I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me. I’ll tell Evans tonight.”

     “Thanks. You don’t know how much this means to us, especially Jacob.”

     Her voice sounds sorrowful, and I hope she isn’t going to break down into tears.

     “Don’t mention it.” I look up and glance at the clock. It’s getting late!

     I set the mixture aside, taking the phone off my ear and putting her on speaker. “I might have to call you back. Evans will be here any moment.”

     “All right. Thanks again. I’ll see you at Eddy’s Café tomorrow.”

     “Sure. Take care.”

     “You too,” she says.

     I hang up quickly and move to the cabinet. Now I have to pipe and shape the mixture, then bake them, and I’m running out of time. I sigh. I wish my mother had told me it wasn’t easy being in the kitchen.

*  *  *

     When that ding-dong rips across the silence of the house, I know quickly who it is. I waste no time running to the door and getting it open.

     Evans Kingston, the love of my life and my husband-to-be stands on my front porch with a smile capable of sending me into a trance, a bouquet in his right hand. He’s wearing a blue suit, and I know he just closed from work and headed straight to my humble abode. Someday, I’m going to live in his big mansion and he won’t have to come here to see me. A few more days. Just a few more days, and I’ll legally be his wife.

     He looks at me. I can’t stop admiring his strong muscular face. Sometimes, I think I don’t deserve him. He’s too handsome for me and above all too old. I start to wonder if I’m the first woman he’s ever proposed to. I wasn’t worried about his past sexual life, but now I am. Lauren has drawn my mind to a crucial aspect of every relationship; knowing something about your partner’s past. Everybody has a past, and it’s only fair to know something about the man you’re set to marry in a few days.

     He brings his lips close to mine and kisses me. I kiss him back, more passionately. He pulls away and purrs, “How’s the most beautiful wife-to-be doing?”

     “I’m fine.”

     “I got you something.” He pushes the bouquet forward and as they shine in the overhead light, I notice they’re red roses. Oh, dear! He doesn’t know. We’ve been dating for a while now, and he has no idea what can potentially harm me.

     My face scrunches, and a tiny rivulet of sweat snakes down my temple.

     He notices my sudden reaction to the bouquet and leans forward, pulling my face up. “What’s wrong?”

     I don’t want to reject the nice gift he got for me, but if I stay another second with the flowers, I’m going to sneeze my heart out.

     I say sheepishly, “Roses make me sneeze.”

     “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He presses his foot on the pedal and throws them in the dustbin on the porch.

     “It’s all right. I should’ve told you earlier.” I open the door wilder. “Come inside. It’s cold outside.”

     Once he’s in, I close the door. Just as I withdraw my hand, I glimpse my reflection in the mirror above. My face looks grim and it’s very observable. I’m getting married in a few days, but I’m not happy about it. Then it occurs to me, and this time, it hits me like a whirlwind. Someome’s watching me. I sense it. Right now I’m convinced I’m being watched. I’m not being paranoid. I was never paranoid.

     Saliva rises to my throat. I gulp it down as I see Evans’ reflection behind me. He takes my hand and spins me around. I fall into his brawny arms. Tracing his finger along the edge of my cheekbone, he says, “You look gloomy. What’s bothering you?”

     I don’t want to tell him about my suspicions that I’m being watched. I’ll need concrete proof. After all, it’s just a feeling, and feelings are scanty to be considered as proof.

     “Nothing.”

     He bobs his head and tucks strands of hair behind my ears, looking into my eyes. “You sure?”

     I smile and loosen his tie. “Certain.”

     He slips out of his coat, and I place it on the arm of the couch. As we walk across the living room to the kitchen, he says, “There’s a familiar scent hanging around here.”

     I smirk. “Of what?”

     He narrows his eyes, tapping his temple. “Of something...” He stops and stares down at me. “Did you make Pâtè de Chou?”

     “Yes, I did, darling.”

     “That’s my favorite French food!”

     “I know. It’s why I made it.”

     He clasps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. I inhale the fragrance from his shirt and suddenly I start to feel safe. Even if I’m being watched, Evans is here. My Superman is going to protect me.