Stella had worked late into the night the night before her official date with Mason to make her homemade pasta, but to her, it was worth it to be tired the following day at work. She had made homemade ravioli stuffed with a marscapone and ricotta cheese mix, as well as a batch that was stuffed with Graziano sausage and beef. Delicately, by hand, Stella had formed each and every ravioli for the dinner she was going to make for Mason. Stella loved cooking, and each hour spent prepping the meal the night before was like a form of therapy.
But tonight was the night, and here she was prepping the rest of their meal. She was waiting for the water to start boiling to throw in the pasta, she had garlic bread in the oven, and on the stove a homemade fresh pasta sauce (again, her great grandmother's recipe) made from crushed tomatoes, basil and garlic. It was thin and not very chunky - just the way it should be.
She came back into the kitchen to stir her sauce, looking at the clock to see that he would be there soon. Excitement building inside her, but also nervousness. Mason seemed like he had a hard shell to crack, and she didn't mind taking the time to do it. It was in her nature, and something about him called to her.