Chapter 6
Austin
Perched on the couch, I hunched over my bass guitar. Not really playing—I hadn’t even bothered to connect it to the amplifier. I just plucked the E-string as I stared at everything spread out on the coffee table. Recipes printed off the internet. Cookbooks open to display glossy, inspirational pictures. Menu ideas scribbled in my almost illegible handwriting.
A thousand ideas on what to cook for Liam, and yet no idea at all.
It didn’t matter how long I kept staring at it, nothing felt right.
I moved my fingers down to the A-string and grimaced as a discordant note rang out and grated my ear. With swift and practiced movements, I adjusted the tuning peg, then resumed plucking.
My gaze flitted from one thing to another. I wanted to cook something fabulous. I wanted to
