Page 46 of Lessons in Lemonade

I laugh. “No. There’s nothing wrong with those, but it just so happens she’s a chef. She owns her own restaurant in the historic district.”

“Wow . . .” he drawls, surprised. “I never thought I’d see the day, but then again, knowing your propensity to eat, she sounds like the perfect girl for you.”

“It’s not like that,” I tell him. Although, after the last couple of days, I’m wishing even more that it was.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you’re here.” He claps me on the shoulder.

“Me too.”

“And if she feels the need to bake me more food, I won’t say no.”

“Don’t tempt her—your whole office will be overflowing. She loves to cook.” An image of her in these ankle-heeled boots in the kitchen at OBA pops up in my mind. She was wearing skintight black jeans, a yellow T-shirt, and an apron with lemons on it. Never a chef coat, always an apron, and who knows, if I’m lucky, maybe one day I’ll get to see her in just the heels and the apron. I groan internally at the thought.

“I’m going to drop this in my office. You head over there and sit on the table.”

The table looks like any other therapy table, but anxiety rolls through my stomach as I set my stuff off to the side and climb on.

“All right. Let’s take a look at you and see what’s going on,” he says as he returns and starts removing the knee immobilizer. “Obviously, you know recovery is possible, but I need you to be prepared for the common outcome that the injured knee does not regain its previous capacity to absorb stress. I’m going to do my best to help you get it back, but it’s going to be hard. Obviously, it’ll be fine for day-to-day life, but a lot of stress is placed here”—he taps the lateral side of my knee—“so playing at the level you were before . . . I’m just not so sure.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I tell him, not meeting his eye and voicing my greatest fear.

“But, if we take a conservative approach to rehabilitation during the early stages here, keeping range of motion limited and restricting weight-bearing exercises, I’m confident we can get you pretty close to your previous ability. No promises, but I’m in this if you are.”

“I’m in it. I don’t know what else to do. Football is . . .”

“I know.” He squeezes my shoulder as a heavy moment of silence falls over us. “How about you show me what the team trainer had you working on at home. If you’ve got good leg control through those quadriceps and leg raises, maybe we can ditch the crutches and the immobilizer and graduate to a hinged brace.”

“Music to my ears.”

“Yeah, you won’t be saying that once I’m done with you.” He chuckles.

“I’m ready. The sooner I can get back to my team, to doing what I love, the better.”

“All right then, let’s get to work.”

Most of the workouts we do together are routine, basic knee rehabilitation exercises, but then to switch it up he has me on upper body and abs, too. This time he does call me fat, punching my stomach again, and then he puts me in the hydrotherapy tank to not only get some cardio in but also to start using my knee without restrictions. It’s here from the top of the machine that my phone pings with a notification.

Meg posted a picture.

Opening the app, I see her face scrunched up in the background like something smells while she’s dangling a pair of my tennis shoes in front of the camera. The shoes look huge, and the caption says: House guest.

I’m not sure when she took the picture as she’s currently at work, but it’s funny nonetheless, and I laugh out loud. Quickly I type a reply: You know what they say about a guy with big feet . . . and I toss the phone down, grinning.

At the end of the two hours, it’s the most exhausted I’ve felt in a long time, and the most excited.

With a smile on my face, I think, I can do this.

Lemon Poppy Seed Muffins

TODAY HAS BEEN a great day. I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine, and that’s the best kind of feeling.

First we hosted the local news channel this morning. They are out and about doing live, on-location interviews with participants for the upcoming festival. They came in with their film crew, did a tour through the restaurant, spoke to Taylor and me, and sampled some of our more popular dishes. Immediately afterward, we were flooded with phone and online reservations.

Next, I had been waiting for a call from the florist to confirm she can make the arrangements we want for the brunch, and she can. She is having orange blossom branches shipped in, and I’m so thrilled because they are perfect for the restaurant. They represent the name, and they are so fragrant I’m certain the dining room will smell divine. Everything seems to be coming together so nicely for the brunch next weekend. The menu is set, the food and wine are ordered, and the staff have all agreed to be here. I feel on top of things, and it feels good.

Then the cherry on top of the sundae: at his usual time of dropping in, Jack sauntered in without his crutches and without the bulky knee brace. He mentioned he was seeing his friend today, but I had no idea this friend actually worked for The Citadel’s athletic department. He still favors the injured leg a bit, but seeing him walk unassisted and smiling was fantastic. Even just this small change for him is like some of the clouds surrounding him have receded.

Now, I’m dressed up and headed out. There’s not one cloud in the sky, and the temperature is a perfect sixty-eight degrees.