Butterflies

Chicken Marsala

recap:

So what are you making me?

I opened the text from Ed couldn't help but smile. Despite him obviously moving on from our non-existent relationship, I couldn't seem to quite get over him. Not that I should be expected to; I had fallen for him over the course of a few months so I couldn't just suddenly stop loving everything about him. It would be smart of me to try harder to move on, but every time he communicated me or I saw a picture of him, I would get sucked back in, like quicksand. It was a treacherous slope but I couldn't simply cut Ed out of my life. That would hurt far too much.

It's a surprise. I replied. Honestly I had no idea what I was going to make yet. It was Thursday and I had planned on checking Pinterest to see if there were any easy recipes and then I was going to go to the grocery store.

Neat! Can't wait. He replied.

And back came the butterflies.

-

I decided to make Chicken Marsala. I figured chicken was an easy route and covering it in wine and onions would be a perfect “welcome home- I still have a big, lame crush on you even though you obviously never liked me” meal. As I cooked and the chicken aromas filled my kitchen, I started to get worried. What if he played me a song about another girl that he was in love with and I couldn't help myself and I started crying? Then what would I do? I guess I could just tell him that I thought it was a beautiful song that brought me to tears for no real reason, but would that be believable? I was a nervous wreck. Why did guys have to be so damn complicated? The doorbell rang, startling me. I glanced at the clock. 6:00 on the dot. I ran to open the door.

(end recap)

“Ed!” I exclaimed.

“Swifty!” He walked in and hugged me. I stiffened. “What? Is something wrong?” He looked concerned.

“No... Sorry. I just... missed you!” I smiled and led the way to the dining room. I set the chicken and green beans on the table. I also grabbed the leftover Marsala and set that on the table with two wine glasses.

“So, how was England?” I asked.

“Wonderful,” he smiled. “I recorded a few songs and I also wrote a bit. It's so weird to go back when I've been gone for so long.

“That's great! Are they all gonna make it onto the album?” I asked.

“Probably... There are one or two I'm not totally sure about yet,” he said. “Maybe I could play one for you and you could help me decide. I think it's safe to say you're credible.” He pointed to the Grammy award in my living room and we both laughed.

“Yeah, that would be great!” I said, probably a little too enthusiastically.

“So, what did you end up making? It smells dangerously delicious.”

“Chicken Marsala. Have you ever had it?”

“Honestly, I'm not sure I even know what it is. Sounds fancy,” he smiled.

“I guess you could say that, but it's really very simple. It's just chicken cooked in a skillet with wine and mushrooms.”

“Well, anything that involves alcohol is automatically amazing. Can't wait to try it.”

We walked into the dining room and he pulled out my seat for me. My heart sped up and I had to force it to calm down. Ed did not like me in that way. I needed to remember that. He picked up the bottle of wine I had placed on the table and pour some for each of us before taking his seat.

“Hey now, you're not supposed to be the host, here,” I joked.

He smiled and his eyes squinted up. There went my heart again. 

“So... did you do... anything... else while you were home?” I couldn't help but ask.

“Yeah...” he looked inquisitively into my eyes, like he knew I was madly jealous of his mystery girl. “I met up with some friends.” He looked down at his plate. “Went to some bars. Nothing too exciting. No one too exciting.” He slowly lifted his head and his eyes met mine. I quickly looked away. Did that girl mean nothing to him? Or was he just not telling me something? 

“Really? Not a single one of those people were important to you?” I asked, a bit too... obviously.

He laughed. “Damn, you're awfully concerned with the subject. But honestly, no. I would have much rather been here.”

I was at a loss. Did he mean here with me? Or just here in the US? Oh don't be silly. Obviously he didn't mean here with you, Taylor. He probably just likes the weather here better- it's not always raining. Yeah.

I stood up. Ed looked slightly startled.

“Can I play you a song?” I needed to do it. I couldn't handle him not knowing how I was feeling.

“Right this second?” He looked in my watering eyes. “I mean, of course... yeah.”

We walked to the living room and I grabbed my guitar.

“You aren't allowed to say a word. Not until I'm done. Maybe not even then. We'll see.”

I began to play the song I had written for and about him.