“Well?”
“I’m gathering data.”
“You’re impossible.”
He tried the chickpeas.
His eye widened.
“Spicy?”
“Yes.”
“Too much?”
He took another bite.
“No.”
I laughed.
The sound made him smile.
We ate while the last light left the harbor.
For a few minutes, the only conversation concerned food.
Noah preferred the lamb.
He disliked the carrots.
He tasted the pear soda and looked surprised.
“This is the dessert.”
“It is not.”
“It should be.”
I stored the new facts quietly.
Not because they replaced the old.
Because they belonged to him now.
When he had eaten enough to satisfy me and not enough to exhaust himself, he leaned back.
“Tell me about you.”
The request was expected.
It still made me nervous.
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
“That is broad.”
