Page 76 of A Much Younger Man
“I had a late lunch,” I lied.
“Come on. Get a fork. I’ll feel weird eating this with you just standing there.”
“All right.” I thought maybe I shouldtasteit anyway. Make sure it was still good. That it was warm enough. I got a fork and sat beside him at the counter.
He waited until I took a bite, blew on it, and then ate it before he gathered his own bite.
It was even better than the night before—chopped beef in a thick gravy of garlic and onions and Worcestershire sauce topped with creamy garlicky mashed potatoes and parmesan cheese.
“Oh. Mm. That’s amazing. Is it a special thing, or do they have it all the time?”
“They always have a variety of sweet and savory pies. Yasha uses locally sourced seasonal ingredients so they change from time to time.” There was a reason Friday was pie night, and it sat right there between me and Beck.
It was good to share Bêtise with him. I was glad I wasn’t able to share it with Dylan the night before.
He licked his lips. “I could eat this every night. It’s so good.”
“But then you’d never be able to eat their chicken pot pie or their empanadas.”
“Oh God. That sounds good too. How do you even choose?”
“Sometimes I don’t,” I admitted. “Sometimes I order all of them.”
“Really? How do you stay fit?”
“I freeze leftovers. And I inherited good genes.”
He sat back, and Rico took the opportunity to hop from his shoulder to my arm. He scooted up and nipped at my ear.
“Boop.”
“Rico is so great.” Beck reached down to pet Callie, whose snout rested on his knee. “I never really considered what it’d be like to have a bird for a pet.”
“I always wanted a bird companion, so when I got the chance to foster Rico, I took it.”
“You fostered him?”
“Yeah, but after his owner went to prison, he became mine.”
“Lucky you. How long do cockatiels live?”
“Some live upwards of twenty years. I hope Rico’s one of those.”
“Callie likes him too.” Beck glanced at Rico. “Although I’m not so sure the feeling’s mutual.”
“Callie’s calm enough. He’ll get used to having her around. I mean…” I backtracked. “It’s just guitar lessons. He’s not fond of the guitar yet either.”
Beck eyed me speculatively. “Right.”
Maybe he’d have believed me if I hadn’t scooped a forkful of food and held it out for him. He gave me a knowing smile as he opened his mouth. Good grief, I was in so much trouble.
“Mmm.” He started swiveling on his chair. “I thought you might not want to do that anymore.”
“I—I probably shouldn’t.”
“It’s the age thing hanging you up, isn’t it?”
“Not just that. There’s an immense economic gap. I hold all the power here, and—”
