Page 75 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

I look at it for a long time. Really? Dance class and then dinner? Can this man be more confusing?

Though Iwasjust going to scrounge around in the kitchen. I’m absolutely famished, no doubt about it.

I throw on a T-shirt and a skort, then I decide that looks like I’m trying too hard so I change it to yoga pants. Then I decide that I felt better in the skort, so I change back to the skort.

The smells coming from the dining room are unbelievable.

I head in, crossing the kitchen. His ubiquitous Pandora mix is playing, and I’m hoping Dave Matthews Band doesn’t come on. I need to tell him what I did. He’ll probably think it’s funny.

I walk under the dining room archway and am stopped in my hungry tracks by the sight of this table loaded with food and lit candles. Benny’s already sitting there, unbelievably handsome in a light brown button-down shirt that matches his eyes and skims his broad shoulders.

“Dude,” I whisper. “I think a man wants to have sexual relations again,” I say. Okay, it might be a woman who wants that.

“A man can’t feed his wife dinner?” he protests.

“Oh, a man certainly can.” I take a seat. There’s a tall glass of fizzy water with a twist waiting for me. He thought of everything. I help myself to several spring rolls and a coconut shrimp. “This looks amazing.”

He just sits there all remote and mysterious. I don’t know what to make of him. It would be so much easier if I didn’t care, if I didn’t feel so happy around him.

“Seriously, though, what’s the occasion?” I ask.

“No occasion.” He toys with his spoon. He seems to have something on his mind. Is he going to let me off the fake wife gig? And is that what I want?

“You looked hungry,” he says.

“Um, thanks?” I say. “You know, usually the wine-and-dine thing goesbeforethe marriage.”

He shrugs. “You know me.”

There’s also an elaborate charcuterie board, and some sort of risotto dish. I point to it. “What is that?”

“It’s a baked Brie and asparagus risotto.”

“What a strange and delicious dinner,” I say.

He frowns. “It seemed like something you’d like.”

“It’s everything I like!” And nothing that’s going to blow weigh-in—not after the athletic day I had. “I don’t know which to eat first,” I say.

He lowers his voice. “Does my sweet wife need a suggestion?”

I point my fork at him. “At your own risk! I’m telling you, I could eat a horse.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You do that.” I load my plate up with a little bit of everything and start eating. Completely famished.

Benny feeds Spencer a bit of meat from the board.

I dip a spring roll loaded with veggies into a little thing of peanut sauce and take a bite. “Mmm! Tofu spring roll alert!”

He’s concentrating on his water. Sometimes it’s like he doesn’t want to let himself be too happy around me.

“Look at us having dinner as a fake married couple,” I say. “Or a fake real married couple. I kind of don’t know what we are.”

“Maybe we’re something that doesn’t have a name,” he says.

“How very mystical of you.”

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