Page 32 of Falling for You
“Which recipe?” he asked, clearly not picking up on the monumental decision at hand.
CeCe took his hand and squeezed. “No, us. Let’s do this.”
Evan nearly choked on his drink. “You want to be my girlfriend?” He reluctantly took his hand back to swipe at the mess he’d made.
“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “I think I do.”
And with that, CeCe dove head first into her first relationship in three years. She wasn’t going to second guess herself, or Evan. If this was meant to be, then they might as well make it official. Because CeCe knew in her soul this was special, that Evan was special. And judging from the glint in his eyes, the feeling was mutual.
*
CeCe was his girlfriend.
CeCe was his girlfriend.
Evan repeated the mantra in his head for the remainder of their evening. Every few minutes he’d close the distance between them to kiss her senseless, afraid if he didn’t take the chance he’d lose it forever. When they’d finished making out like teenagers, Evan led the way into his living room. He’d cleaned up the space and put away the air mattress for the time being.
CeCe frown when she saw the open space. “No forts tonight?”
He shrugged, biting back a smirk at her disappointment. “Nah. I needed to clear some space for my set-up.” He gestured to the laptop and stacks of notebooks on the coffee table. Ever since he signed the contract, he was on a mission to draft the website for the boutique. He was still radiating with excitement, and he knew this could be a big break for him and his freelance career.
Despite his excitement over the contract, however, he was even more thrilled about the competition and having CeCe over. She followed him to the couch and sat right next to him as he eased into place. He casually threw his arm over the back of the couch and stifled a groan when she nestled beside him. It all felt so comfortable—warm and fuzzy—like the perfect dream.
Without asking, he turned on the TV to the last streaming service they’d watched. Pulling up an action movie from the ’80s, they settled back for a while to watch the big fight scene unfold. When there was a lull in the action, CeCe leaned back to catch his gaze. “Should we look at the last of these menus?”
Evan drew his arm back and cleared the coffee table. “Sure, let me make some room.”
CeCe studied him for a moment before pulling a few notebooks from her purse. “You’re sure this won’t be too much for you?” she asked.
“What’s too much?” He raised an eyebrow.
“This.” She waved her hands around his workspace. “You just landed a contract, and I don’t want to distract you. Girlfriends are a lot of work, you know?” She winked to prove she was teasing.
“You’re the best kind of distraction.” It was a line cheesier than her famous cheesy bites, but she didn’t seem to mind. The flush that crept up her cheeks spoke volumes. “Besides, the whole point of getting freelance work is so I can make my own schedule and keep up at the diner. I really love working there.”
“Good. Because we need your help,” she said as she splayed her notebooks across the coffee table.
The movie forgotten, the pair combed through dozens of recipes that she had either perfected or wanted to try again. They’d agreed on one savory dish and one sweet dish to try at the diner on Saturday. When she mentioned the fritters, Evan remarked it was a given. After a few yawns, it was clear planning time was over. As he packed up their notes, he got a text from Max.
Evan scrolled through his phone and chuckled. “Well, it’s a good thing you are coming to family dinner.”
CeCe peered down at his phone. “Why is that?”
“Because Max found us a food truck. And this guy lives ten minutes from my parents. We’ll literally drive past his place on the way to their house.”
“Then it’s meant to be,” CeCe said with a firm nod.
––––––––
Before Evan knew it, family dinner day arrived. With Evan behind the wheel, they drove west to see a man about a food truck. The guy had been in the mobile food scene out in Indianapolis but had had to retire when his wife fell ill. The vehicle was still in great shape; he just didn’t have it in him to work anymore.
The seller knocked on the metal door with a sigh. “She’s a good old beast.” His voice came out sad and low. His expression held years of memories, but also the grief of memories still unmade.
CeCe nodded sagely, her blonde hair blowing in the early spring air. “You’re sure you want to sell?” Her voice was light, but Evan didn’t miss the tenderness hiding beneath the surface. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one affected by the man’s predicament.
“I’m sure. Besides”—he exhaled and looked between the pair—“I’ve got a good feeling about you two. It’d be nice to see the old girl working again.” He rubbed the back of his neck and quoted a price that was embarrassingly low.
“Surely it’s worth more than that,” Evan countered.
