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Iama strong independent woman. Idowant to have the final say on every aspect of my life.
But I think I can have those two things and also find a partner. Someone to love and make plans with.
I know I don’t need a man. But I want one. A nice one.
Like Joshua.
But…maybe not Joshua exactly.
He still hasn’t answered my question, and I think I might finish my disgusting wine before he gets around to it.
“So, books.” Maybe I should just go first to get the conversation flowing. “I read a good one last week. It was an autobiography about a chef.” I figure Joshua doesn’t want to hear about the fantasy series I’ve been devouring, so I stick to my non-fiction reads. “He kept running into roadblocks because of the neighborhood he grew up in and the way society viewed him, but he relentlessly pursued his dream, which was inspiring. And every chapter ended with a recipe, which I thought was a great publishing idea. If I was a better cook and had an oven that worked, I might try to make some of them.”
“Your oven doesn’t work? Have you called a repair man?”
Bleh, that’s what he’s interested in?
“I’m renting. I let the owner of the building know. I’m sure they’ll get around to it. Honestly, I shouldn’t even complain. This chef had to cook on an oil tanker—”
“How do you make dinner without a working oven?”
Joshua is still on my oven? It’s just an appliance.
“I get by. Using a toaster oven and the microwave.”
“You can’t cook very much in those.” He frowns at me across the table as if the portion size of my food legitimately concerns him.
I fight the urge to groan and lay my head on the table. Despite how very mature that would make me look, I restrain myself and paste an overly bright smile on my face, hoping that if I look happy, maybe I’ll start to feel happy.
“I’m just cooking for me, so I don’t need a lot.” Seems he’s not interested in Kwame Onwuachi’s life story, so I give up on that track of one-sided conversation. “Are there any meals you like to cook?”
“Oh.” He chuckles as if my question is amusing, which again, I don’t get. After sipping what I’m sure is a delicious dry whiskey, Joshua gives me a small smile.
The expression comes off as patronizing.
“My mother never let me in the kitchen. She and my sister always handled the meals.”
“And you and your dad took care of clean-up duty?”
He laughs. A full, belly-rumbling laugh.
I take another swallow from my glass, polishing it off.
“You liked it?” He grins across the table at me, still riding the high of finding my not-funny question hilarious.
“I’m going to try something else.” I wave the waiter down, keeping their eyes locked with mine so they know who is in charge here.
It’s me. I’m in charge. And I need a dry red.
Because this is going to be a long evening.
Chapter Six
COLE
Sansa encircles my neck, claiming me as her own. She’s draped across me, with no care for how her placement might make it difficult for me to perform my job duties.
And the second she thinks I’m ignoring her, I hear about it.
