Page 7 of Continuum

“It’s fine.” Slipping my hand from under his, I picked up my glass. “It’s been a long time.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

I allowed my gaze to travel around the room. It wasn’t like I’d forgotten about the anniversary of Angel’s death. But I was waiting until tomorrow to think about it. I missed her. I was at peace with her passing, but I’d always miss her.

But none of this puts me in the headspace that I need to be in for the orgasms and dick down I deserve.

I shook off the thoughts.

“You didn’t like it?” he asked. When I returned my eyes to his, he gestured to my plate. “You didn’t like the canard aux cerises?”

I told him I didn’t like duck, but he insisted that I would like it and ordered for me. He thought he was being gentlemanly, but he was presumptuous, and the move failed.

I was willing to overlook that though.

“No, not really,” I admitted. “But the vegetables were delicious, and the spinach soufflé was amazing.”

A flash of disappointment crossed his face. His brown eyes dipped for a moment. “Hm, I’m sorry about that,” he apologized. “I hope my choice in dessert makes up for it.”

“I have no doubt it will.” Flashing him a reassuring smile, I leaned forward. “Your choices have been pretty good so far.”

The waiter appeared, taking our old plates and replacing them with four decadent desserts. “Would you like a to-go box?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to say no, but Jordan jumped in.

“Yes, thank you,” he answered.

The waiter gave a solid nod. “Very well, sir.”

When we were alone again, I scrunched my nose. “If I didn’t like the food fresh from the kitchen, I’m not going to like it microwaved later.”

He chuckled. “I figured. I’m taking it home for me.”

“Oh!” I nodded. “Good idea.”

He gestured to the crème brulee. “Does it look as good as it did when the people that were over there ordered it?”

I picked up my spoon. “Looks even better.”

“Good,” he said with a self-satisfied grin.

“What’s going on here?” I wondered, eyeing the rest of the desserts. “I thought you wanted the chocolate mousse.”

“I wanted something to go with it and I couldn’t decide between the macaroons and the tarte tatin.” He shrugged. “So, I just got all three.”

I laughed lightly. “Is it usually hard for you to make a decision?” I wondered, noticing a pattern with him.

He’d sent me two different bouquets of flowers because he didn’t know which I’d like best. He’d gotten tickets for us to go to the ballet and to the symphony and I had to choose which I wanted to attend. My eyes bounced to each of the desserts, easily knowing that I would’ve chosen the macaroons.

“No, it’s not hard,” he answered. “But why limit myself if I don’t have to?”

“It sounds like you couldn’t make a decision, so you decided to choose all the options,” I teased.

“It’s not that Icouldn’tmake a decision. I just didn’t have to.”

I searched his eyes as I lifted my spoon to crack the sugary surface of my dessert. “That makes sense. You strike me as the type who doesn’t say no when opportunity is knocking.”

“What do you mean?”

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