Page 35 of The Phyre that Burns
“Do you want to go out or order in?” Phyre asked when I told him how hungry I was.
“Let’s go out, but nowhere too fancy. Your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant is fine with me.”
“I gotchu.”
We showered together, managing to keep our hands to ourselves. Phyre had to wear the clothes he’d arrived in. Luckily, I’d washed them with the second set of sheets we’d ruined. After we dressed, we headed out the door, hand in hand. He helped me into his car, and once he was behind the wheel, we were on our way.
“How did you know my address? The staffing agency doesn’t share that kind of information, do they?”
He chuckled. “No. That’s my condo. I’ve owned it for a few years and use it as an Airbnb. When you accepted the assignment, I reached out to the agency and offered it as an alternative to a hotel since you would be here for six months.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. I wanted you to be comfortable, but I also wanted access to you.”
I narrowed my brow. “Do you have cameras in there?”
“Hell no. I’m not a creep ass nigga, but I do have a key.”
“Have you been sneaking in during the middle of the night and watching me sleep?”
He shook his head and smiled. “No, but I damn sure thought about it.”
“I definitely would’ve called the police, so it’s a good thing you didn’t.”
“What about now?”
“You said you were moving full speed ahead.”
“Eitherweare moving full speed ahead, or we’re not moving at all. If I knew you’d be down for it, we’d be at the courthouse first thing tomorrow morning getting married. If I’m in this alone, let me know.”
He stopped at a red light and looked at me.
“You’re not in this alone, but we’re not in the same place. You’ve had more time to process and plan than I have. I’m still trying to wrap my head around you being back in my life. I want to move forward, but we might not always be moving at the same speed.”
“Are you on birth control?” he asked.
“No.”
“And not once did you ask me to wrap up. We might have created a child this weekend. I think it’s fair to say we’re moving at the same speed. Case closed. We’re here.”
He parked in the parking lot of a small restaurant and cut the engine. Before I could respond to him, he was out of the car and opening my door. He helped me out, and we walked around to the entrance.
“I hope this meets your hole-in-the-wall criteria,” he said before opening the door.
I stepped inside and smiled because the place reminded me of one of my favorite spots at home. Chicago was notorious for having small restaurants with little curb appeal, but the food was to die for.
“If the food tastes anything like it smells, this will become a favorite while I’m in town.”
“That’s great, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re not leaving. We can seat ourselves. Let’s sit at that booth in the corner.”
He pointed in the direction he wanted me to go. Once we were seated, I grabbed one of the menus on the table, making note of the name of the restaurant so that I could come back on my own if needed.
“Black Elm Breakfast Bistro,” I read aloud. “The name doesn’t fit the aesthetic because this looksnothinglike a bistro. I bet people come here expecting something fancy.”
“I’m sure they do, but if they stay, I doubt they’re disappointed.”
“I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Do you recommend anything?”
