“Uh-huh.”
“I do not need an account mocking me.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m technically a financial consultant. There’s a difference.”
“That sounds even more mockable.”
The hostess seated us near the fireplace. The second the menus arrived, Winnie opened hers. “I already know what I want.”
“What?”
“They have blood sausage.”
I stared. “Say what?”
“Blood sausage.”
“That sounds… interesting.”
She pointed to the menu. “They also have black pudding.”
“What the hell is black pudding? It doesn’t sound very appetizing.”
“It’s a specific type of blood sausage,” she explained.
“Just as I suspected. Not a dessert at all.”
I looked up at Winnie. She was practically vibrating with excitement.
“You’re so excited about blood products.”
She scowled. “Of course I’m excited. The high blood content allows me to eat my weight in them.”
“Should I leave you and the blood sausages alone? Do you need a moment?”
She laughed so hard she nearly dropped her menu.
God. I loved making her laugh. It had become one of my favorite things. Her laugh immediately improved my day, and I’d caught myself storing little stories just to tell her later.
I was in deep. Hopelessly. Ridiculously.
Our waitress arrived. Winnie ordered enough blood sausage and black pudding to concern a cardiologist.
I ordered fish and chips.
When the waitress left, I leaned back. “So.”
Winnie smiled. “So.”
“I think you owe me approximately two centuries of explanation.”
She groaned. “That’s fair.” She studied her folded hands. “I truly am sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I know.”
“I wasn’t trying to deceive you,” she said.
“I know.”
