Page 37 of What Broke First
“She sounds like a visionary.”
Sarah blinked. Then smiled again. It felt weird. Good weird.
Halfway through dinner, Jordan leaned back with a grin. “Okay, serious question. Have you ever watched MasterChef and suddenly believed you could make a croquembouche?”
Sarah laughed, caught off guard. “Only every season. I even Googled how to make spun sugar once.”
“Did you try it?”
“I nearly set off the smoke alarm. Twice. Ended up eating a spoonful of Nutella over the sink instead.”
Jordan held up his glass in mock toast. “A classic culinary pivot. Respect.”
She smirked, twirling her fork in the Caesar salad. “What about you? You strike me as the kind of guy who watches cooking shows and actually tries the recipes.”
He leaned in slightly. “I’ve been known to attempt a risotto. I take my carbs seriously.”
“Risotto?” she raised an eyebrow. “That’s bold. Most guys can barely scramble eggs without Googling it.”
He gave her that confident half-smile again. “I do own a whisk, Sarah.”
“Oh wow. A man with a whisk and opinions about arborio rice. Be still my heart.”
They laughed, easy and warm, the kind of laughter that settled low and lingered.
And somehow, the conversation kept going. From their worst takeout disasters to their dream travel meals, to whether or not cilantro was an herb or a personal attack.
At some point, Sarah glanced at the time and blinked. “How is it already past nine?”
“Good conversation,” Jordan said, without missing a beat. “Time doesn’t stand a chance.”
He reached for his glass, then paused. “Can I ask you something personal?”
"Sure,” Sarah said, picking up her glass, too.
“What’s something you’ve learned about yourself recently?”
She considered it. “That I can be angry and grateful at the same time. That grief and hope can exist in the same breath. And that I’m allowed to take up space, even if it’s messy.”
He nodded, taking that in. “That’s... a powerful answer.”
She glanced up, meeting his gaze. “What about you?”
Jordan’s expression turned thoughtful. “That it’s okay to start over. And that starting over doesn’t have to mean starting from scratch. Sometimes it just means choosing better.”
Sarah didn’t say anything for a beat. Then, softly, “Are we choosing better?”
“I hope so,” he said. “Even if it’s just for tonight.”
Dessert came, a warm brownie topped with melting espresso ice cream, and Jordan took the first bite like it was sacred. He let out a quiet, satisfied sound that made Sarah laugh.
“This might be the most spiritual experience I’ve had all year,” he said, licking a bit of chocolate from his thumb.
“I’ll alert the Vatican,” she replied, smiling around her spoon.
He glanced at her, eyes warm. “You know what’s wild? I read this article that said sugar lights up the same part of your brain as falling in love.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying this brownie is manipulating my emotions?”
