Page 50 of Things We Tell Ourselves

Wade’s brow furrows. “We’re about to find out.”

Sixteen

Adam is carrying out to-go boxes to a table near the bar when they emerge from the corridor. Wade gives him a slight nod as they turn for the wine room. A moment after they’ve seated, Adam carries in a tray with what Camille hopes is their last sample from Chef Phillipe.

Her stomach can’t handle much more. The walk upstairs might have helped with her digestion, but the way her stomach flutters as she glances at Wade, the feeling of his lips on hers, more food is the last thing she needs.

A circular plate is laid out in front of each of them with identical chocolate spheres propped precociously on top of a pyramid-shaped brownie. The gravity-defying display has Camille tilting her head to the side, trying to figure out how it was achieved. Camille notices Phillipe standing against the wall as if a decoration, eyeing Adam as he takes a white towel from his back pocket, using it to grab the handle of a dainty copper pot.

“Start directly over the middle,” Phillipe hisses from the wall.

Adam turns to the table, an exasperated smirk on his face. Camille sits back as Adam starts with her dessert first. He holds the pot out a foot over her plate. A foot too high, if you ask her. He tips the pot to the side, and a white cream pours out in a gentle waterfall. She inhales, smelling the warm, white chocolate. She’s fully expecting the sphere to roll down the side of the pyramid as soon as the liquid touches it, but when it hits the top of the chocolate sphere, it melts. Wade and Camille watch entranced as the liquid causes the sphere to dissolve, white and brown chocolate cascading down the sides of the pyramid. There’s something powdery on the inside of the sphere, dissolving along with the rest of the sphere.

She picks up her dessert spoon, anxious to dig in, but Wade’s plate is next. Phillipe moves to the side to watch Adam pour the liquid over his sphere, looking just as excited as Camille. From this angle, she can see the puff of powder as the top of the sphere caves in, the chocolate melting over the pyramid.

“I’ll be back with refills,” Adam notes, seeing their empty glasses.

Camille isn’t listening. She’s forgotten about her full stomach and the feelings from the roof as she dips her spoon into the melted chocolate flowing down the side. She’s intentional, keeping her bites on the smaller side. She’s on her second bite by the time Wade takes his first.

“Wow,” he nods slowly as he chews into the chocolaty deliciousness. “Just wow.” He looks over at Phillipe, who’s smiling proudly. Wade points his spoon at his plate. “What are you calling this?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Phillipe walks over, a spoon materializing in his hand. “We’re thinking, ‘Pyramid of Desire.’”

Wade takes a second bite, pushing his plate a few inches closer to Phillipe, knowing exactly what the chef wants.

“What do you think?” Phillipe asks in Camille’s direction, cutting into the back of Wade’s pyramid. He takes a bite, glancing at her as she tries to come up with the words. “Too much white chocolate,” he says to himself, running his tongue around his teeth, “needs more cinnamon.”

“Don’t,” she sputters as she swallows her bite. The cinnamon must have been the powder inside the sphere; she can taste a hint of it mixed in with the warm richness of the chocolate-covered brownie. “Please don’t change a thing.”

Phillipe grins, looking between them. “Pyramid of Desire isn’t too much?”

When Phillipe’s looking in her direction, Wade winks at her. She grins up at Phillipe.

“Not at all.”

Wade sets his spoon down, throwing in the towel. “Thank you for a fantastic meal. I couldn’t have asked for a better end to the day, and—” he pushes his chair back to stand, “I have some new ideas about the second floor.”

“Run them by me some other time. It’s a madhouse out there,” Phillipe replies, tossing his spoon on the side of Wade’s plate.

“Sounds good.”

They give each other a one-armed hug, patting the other’s back. Phillipe nearly runs into Adam, who bursts through with a small tray of refills. Camille is just about to stand when she sees the drinks.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Adam asks.

Wade’s eyes go from his new drink to Camille.

“I’m good.”

“Me too,” she agrees, not daring to look Wade in the eye for longer than a heartbeat. She gazes up at Adam. “Thank you for taking care of us.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“Thanks,” Wade repeats, stepping toward Adam, holding out a folded hundred-dollar bill.

“Come back anytime,” he grins, accepting the tip. When he takes it, Camille sees the bill is actually more than a one-hundred-dollar bill. Adam looks between them. “To-go drinks, anyone?”

Both of them shake their heads.

---