“Not what I said, but whatever.”
“It is what you said. That I would wish for validation from a company that makes tires.”
“It’s a crock. Still, my grandfather would have sold his kidney to have come up with the idea.” Easton sits on a stump next to Dante. “But yeah, fuck ’em. I’ve eaten in Michelin-starred restaurants that don’t come anywhere near to what you make, on a beach with almost nothing.” Easton nods in a I’ve-said-my-piece way.
“I just don’t need validation like that in my life. When I was a kid, I just wanted my blockhead uncle to throw me some damn scraps. ‘Good job, Dante. You’re nothing like your dad. You work hard. Your mom’s proud of you. I’m proud of you,’ or whatever shit it was I wished for. I came home from whatever fucking job he had me working one day. I was like thirteen. I was crying and my mom found me. She told me, ‘You don’t need him or me to tell you you’re amazing, Dante. I mean, I need to say it more. Because you’re better than all of us. But the only way you’re going to know it for sure is if you believe it. I believe it. Do you?’ And that was fucking it. I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m great. Because I already know I’m a fucking special snowflake. And aMichelin-starred chef? No fucking way. They work themselves into drug overdoses and ulcers. They have to keep doing the same shit for years because they become the weird sausage guy or the queen of exotic cheese. Fucking hate cheese. So no. No, no to all of that.”
“What do you say yes to?” Haley asks. I hadn’t even heard her coming up behind me. She puts one hand on Easton’s shoulder and the other on Dante’s.
“I say yes to you, Sassy.”
She laughs. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Right. In the new year, I say yes to creativity. I say yes to spontaneity. I say yes to fucking?—”
“Cheese,” Easton interrupts.
Haley laughs.
“I was just going to say fucking.” Dante pulls Haley onto his lap.
“Fucking is nice. But then so is cheese.”
“And how are we going to get cheese, Sassy?”
Haley’s eyes flick to the mountain.
“Goats?” Easton asks.
“No,” I say.
“Well, I say yes. Because I say yes to Sassy.”
“Keeping goats isn’t the same as moving the chicken tractor a couple of times a day,” I say. “We’d need a fence. Good fence. Those are wild goats.”
“I’m going to side with Green on this one,” Easton agrees. “The one close encounter I had with a goat on the mountain didn’t leave me wanting more.”
“We need pasture,” Haley says, like it’s easy enough to snap her fingers.
I inwardly groan. “You don’t need pasture. Goats make pastures. Goats could clear the Amazon rainforest with enough fencing and time.” Am I kicking myself inside? Yes, yes, I am.
“I’ll wash the dishes,” Haley says.
“No, I’ll do it.” I stand, grabbing the tub from under the counter and placing my bowl in it first. “Good dinner, Dante. I’d say Michelin-star-worthy.”
He shoots me the middle finger, and I smile as I take his plate.
“What’s up with Green, jumping up to do the dishes?” Zane asks as he places his bowl in the tub. It’s not that I don’t do the dishes a lot. It’s that I tend to find something else that needs to be done. But tonight... tonight, I’m trying to stay away from the hype. I’ve always hated New Year’s Eve. The hats, the party where everyone pretends to be happy. Or get so drunk they can’t stand. Then I end up driving them home. Worse, the stupid countdown. Ten, nine, searching for someone to kiss, eight, seven. It’s all a crock of bull, six, it’s just another night, another day...
“I can help,” Haley says, jumping up.
“I... I’ve got it.” I nod and head to the beach.
“What’s going on?” Haley’s trailing me, taking three steps to my one. “Hey, slow down.” She waves the dish towel at me.
“I’ve got it, Haley. You’ve got plans for tonight. Go and do them.”
“My plans include you.” She crosses her arms over her chest. And fuck. “I made hats.”
