Page 9 of Ward
“You’ve got some really weird shit in here, Spark.” I hear him gruffly laugh. I slap on some lip oil and grab my purse.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, stepping out, ready finally.
“Wow,” Ward’s breath comes out thick in an almost growl, his eyes slowly scoping me from head to toe to head again. His languid assessment is making my heart do flips that would be the envy of an Olympic gymnast.
“Have you ever tried Omakase?” he asks, throwing me for a bit of a surprise. Knowing Ward, well kind of knowing Ward, I thought we’d go axe-throwing or maybe do a panic room after burgers and beer.Sushi?
“No, but I’ve heard of it.” I smile big with renewed delight. “Sounds amazing. I love sushi.”
“It’s a whole experience…and alotof food. I hope you’re hungry.”
I nod, the smile permanently adhered to my cheeks. “I can eat.”
~ * ~
Poor Ward.
He has brought me into the most magical dimension of culinary rapture, and I amherefor it. There are about ten couples seated before an itamae—the head chef—and his twoassistant sushi chefs, who are delivering us with bite after bite of creative, beautiful, outrageously scrumptious sushi and sashimi.
This isn’t a meal. It isn’t even a presentation. This isimmersive. I could not be more engaged in every word the itamae is telling us about their craft. The notes of flavors. The origins of the fishees. The cooking technique. There is something so gratifying and awe-inspiring about people who have a real mastery at what they do.
My mouth, brain, stomach, and soul are alight with pleasure.
Even my hands are happy, as the itamae and assistant chefs place the individually crafted pieces right into our palm. We hold the food as we listen, and then all eat together once the chefs are finished explaining. Both feeling and tasting the texture. It’s a raw, nearly spiritual experience.
I don’t think I’ve said a peep to Ward besides “mmmm” and “Oh my God” and “wow, did you know that, isn’t thatinteresting?” to which he replied in kind, “mmmm” and “I know right” and “no, yeah, wow.”
Real deep connection happening here.
There are fifteen courses.Fifteen. They are little courses though, one, two, sometimes three bites each. By the end, I’m not full. I am utterly fulfilled.
“How did you know I would love that?” I turn to Ward, letting out a soft, delighted sigh. There are no prices on the menu—Omakase meanschef’s choice, all seasonal selections, and it was so elegant and informed—so I can only imagine this cost him a fortune.
Or am I supposed to be splitting this with him?I don’t date, really. I’m not on the apps. Randos slide into my DMs from time to time, but I’m just not interested. I have all that I need to take care of my…needs. I simply am happy with my little life. But Ward stirs something in me. Without any effort, I’m drawn to him.
“Lucky guess?” Ward says. “Actually Emrys suggested it. He’s the foodie on our crew. Makes some mean steak and chicken fajitas. His chili is just mean, though,” Ward grumbles that last bit.
“Emrys?” I ask.
“One of the firefighters on my shift.”
“Do you like the guys you work with?” I ask, starting off slow.
“They are a bunch of jackasses,” he answers, chuckling, “but they’re good guys. Always up for anything, even it means putting their life on the line.”
I swallow thickly. “Do you put your life on the line…a lot?”
“Honestly, no. We do a good bit of putzing around the fire station. Sure we train, we clean, we cook our meals, work out. We run calls. It’s mostly straightforward stuff, elderly ladies falling at the retirement home, stomachaches at three a.m. waking us the fuck up.” He shakes his head.
“But you have to be ready always…just in case,” I say softly.
“Exactly.” Ward nods, then reaches for his little cup of hot sake and knocks it back, and I echo his movement. Just that tiny bit of sake warms my throat and stomach and makes my face feel happy. “You doin’ okay,” Ward says, looking more deeply at me, “with…everything?”
I know he means Ditra’s dad. “Yeah. No.” I shrug. “Ditra told me today, actually right before you picked me up, they’re going to spread his ashes in the ocean.”
“They?”
“Ditra, her three sisters, and their mom.”
