Page 48 of Breaking the Ice

Ellie drops a tomato onto the counter so hard it spurts juice. “Who’s Belle?” Her tone is laden with jealousy.

I like knowing that I mean enough to her to incite the green-eyed monster, even if she doesn’t want me to know it. So instead of answering her straight out, I ask, “Haven’t I mentioned Belle?”

“You have not.” She’s practically leaning all her weight onto the tomato now and I don’t see how we’re going to save it.

“Belle is my assistant,” I tell her. “She’s my right hand, my drill sergeant, and my sentry at the gate. I’d be lost without her.”

Ellie’s expression slowly shifts from anger to relief. “She isn’t by any chance eighty, is she?”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “Belle is in her early thirties and she’s quite lovely. But before you get the wrong idea, she has no interest in me beyond the paycheck I give her, and the occasional perks that come from being my assistant.”

Ellie’s eyebrows furrow deeply. “What kind of perks?”

“Belle lives in Pasadena and often remarks how horrible the commute is, so I told her she could move into my condo while I was in Maple Falls.”

“And when you go back?” Ellie’s suspicion is adorable.

“If she hasn’t donated all my stuff and redecorated to suit her own style, then she’ll move back to Pasadena. If she’s claimed the place for her own,” I tease, “I’ll have to buy myself something else.”

I can’t tell what Ellie’s thinking because she suddenly gets very quiet. I watch as she cuts a cucumber and a red onion and tosses them into the salad. She even picks up the decimated tomato and breaks it apart into the bowl. I am determined to understand what’s going on in her head, so I ask, “What are your thoughts?”

Looking up at me, she answers, “I can’t put them into words. I mean, I’ve never known anyone like you before, so I don’t know if you’re teasing or if you’d actually give your assistant a condo and buy another. All I know is that we really do live in different worlds.”

“Ellie, what would you do if you won the lottery?”

She thinks for a minute before asking, “How much would I be winning in this scenario?”

“For the sake of conversation, let’s say forty-seven billion, give or take.”

Her eyes pop open so wide they look like they’re in jeopardy of falling out of her head. “Forty-seven billion dollars?”

“Dollars, coconuts, whatever currency you want.”

She exhales loudly. “If she’s as good of an assistant as you say, I’d let her keep the place.”

I press a finger onto the steaks to make sure they’re at the right temperature. “Then you think I’d be doing the right thing.”

“I guess. I mean, maybe. I mean, how the heck do I know? There is a zero percent chance I’m going to win forty-seven billion dollars in the lotto. I don’t even play.”

Pulling two plates out of the cabinet above our heads, I serve the steaks and potatoes before saying, “Why don’t you bring the bowl over to the table?”

I lead the way and when we’re both seated, Ellie reaches out and picks up a lighter sitting next to the candles. “My parents always used to eat by candlelight. My dad said that it made even the simplest meal special.”

“I agree with your dad,” I tell her. “Belle got it into her head to replace all my wax candles with high-end battery-operated ones that automatically turn on every night at five and then turn off at eleven. I think it’s kind of freaky.”

Putting her napkin in her lap, Ellie says, “There are really good fake candles these days.”

“Do you use them?”

She shakes her head. “No, but only because I like to watch the flame jump around. I also like the way the smoke smells when I blow them out.”

After refilling our wine glasses, I lift mine and toast, “To real fire.”

She adds, “That can burn you if you’re not careful.”

We’re clearly not talking about candles anymore. “Real risk is part of finding a real connection.”

Ellie gently taps her glass to mine. “To risk.”

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