Page 11 of Sugar Pie
He put a twenty on the table. “Here. You cooked. And it looks better than anything in a restaurant.”
I shrugged and ignored the money. Unlike my parents or my ex, Warren clearly wasn’t flush with cash, either. I walked our plates to the small table and said, “I have to eat too.”
He pivoted but didn’t move. “Take it, please.”
As I walked to the refrigerator, I moved my hips a bit more than usual, and I hoped he noticed. As I grabbed the wine, I said, “That’s probably the first time in my life any man has said please to me.”
He came up next to me, and goose bumps grew on my arms. I took a breath and told myself he was a sexy, handsome man. He grabbed the glasses and silverware then walked beside me to the table. “That’s strange, Kerry. My mother trained us all to immediately offer a ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’ as politeness mattered to us.”
“I like that.” It was the first time I remembered anyone helping me set the table, either. I was usually alone unless summoned. I took a seat. “That’s good training for her future.”
He laughed. “With my father and eleven boys, she was sometimes a general and sometimes a saint, but everyone loves their parents. It might make me sound weak, but they encouraged us to find our passions.”
The warmness in his words buzzed through me. It would have been nice to be part of a family like the kind on TV and in movies and books, where everyone loves each other. He poured the wine for us, and my pulse zipped. “No. My parents never encouraged me.” Helpful and nice was a deadly combination. “I always wanted siblings to talk to growing up. I was an only child.”
He picked up his silverware and ate the first bite of the meal. I held my breath and waited for his reaction. It wasn’t much, but I’d thrown myself into its preparation and hoped he liked it.
His eyes widened, and he smiled at me.
My skin tingled with his approval. In another life, that might have been enough to make me happy.
As he finished his bite, he asked, “What about you? Did you figure out a work plan for yourself?”
“No,” I said quickly then stuffed food into my mouth. “And I swear I won’t take another day like this. I needed to decompress and took too much time in inaction.” I tensed and looked down. I had no money, so not looking for work was the worst thing I could have done.
He ate like he was totally fine, so I finished chewing my own meal. Soon, I relaxed. When I was sure I could, I asked, “How was your job today?”
He leaned closer. “Too short, and these small jobs won’t help the big picture. I need a better plan.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure that out soon,” I said then devoted myself to eating.
He sat back. “I thought about you today too.”
“Likewise.”
Then we both ate. The silence filled me more than the first food I’d eaten that day.
As we finished our meal, I picked up my wine. “I wanted to do something nice for you, but honestly, I’m out of practice with having company to talk to.”
He took the dishes from the table. “Part of me always wished I had more me time. Even as an adult, with eleven brothers, some of whom are now settling down and getting married, there is always a reason for togetherness.”
I tilted my head and wondered if he intended to clean up. He grabbed the pan from the oven, too, and started the wash. He took my plate from me and washed the dishes.
“It’s not that my soon-to-be ex didn’t have friends over.” Once the faucet was off, I said, “It’s just that I’ve never been expected to speak.”
“I can’t imagine having you around and not wanting to get your thoughts.”
“That’s sweet, just like you.”
“I’m not sweet.”
“Neither is sugar,” I said with a laugh.
We walked back to the table together, and I picked up my wine.
He said, “Well, in my mind, I think I came to a solution where we both win and get what we want.”
I waited, tensed and frozen in place. He couldn’t know my goals—I didn’t even know them. Maybe I had been naïve to think I had a reprieve from being used. My skin zipped as I asked, “Solution?”
