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“I do,” I reply as I set to work on a cappuccino. “Want one?” I ask him.
“Sure.”
We work in silence, both setting things on a small island where there are two stools.
“Fuck it,” he says as he turns off the stove and looks at the island. “Grab your drink and plate. We’re going to the dining room.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Like…a formal one?”
He nods and I follow him. The dogs are too infatuated with their carrots to bother coming with us. We walk through two sets of doors and enter a giant two-story room. There’s a table in the middle that could easily seat twenty people.
“Uh, that’s a lot of table,” I declare as I look around, unsure of where to put my things. I watch Adam hesitate at the head of the table but then he places his things there and pulls out the seat along the side closest to his chair. He motions for me to sit. I place my things down and comply.
He pushes in my chair and walks to a long table behind us. It’s made of inlaid wood with intricate patterns and I’m sure it’s worth something ridiculous. He grabs linens and silverware…actual “silver” ware.
He places the linen in my lap and the silverware on either side of my plate.
“Fancy,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “I haven’t been in here in…” He trails off and I swear I see sadness on his face. “Well, in a really long time. It’s silly not to use it when I have company.”
“I wouldn’t even know what to do with all these rooms,” I say, taking a bite. I groan as the delicious flavors hit my taste buds. “Holy shit, this is actually good,” I mumble after swallowing.
“I took a cooking class in France a while back,” he says. A distant look clouds his face, and when he sees I’m watching, he clears his throat. “That’s where I met Bastian.”
“I think he mentioned that once. It’s where he’s from, right?” I ask, using my limited knowledge of Bastian to further the conversation because now, I’m curious.
“Yes. I…was unhappy and was at this bar all the time. Bastian was the bartender there. But during the days, he worked as a sous chef. The chef he worked with offered me some cooking classes after I ate there a few times and commented about how I wished I could cook French cuisine.”
“How did Bastian end up here?” I ask when I really want to ask why he was unhappy, but decide I should tread lightly.
Adam laughs at the memory. “I…I was unhappy after a breakup and so was Bastian. We bonded over our hatred of love as one does after a breakup. We became good friends. Bastian needed a change. I had to come home, and so I offered him a job here.” He pauses again and laughs.
“What?”
“He may have come along on one condition.” Adam pauses and smiles. “I don’t get to make any requests. He gets to choose the menu.”
“And you agreed to that?” I ask, utterly shocked.
He shrugs. “I gave him a list of things I won’t eat. And told him to have at it.”
“This is shocking. You seem like such a…” I trail off and bite my lower lip.
“Such a what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I blush. “A…control freak.”
He laughs and sets his fork down. “Wow. Two days into knowing me and you already have me pegged as a control freak.”
“I mean, if the shoe fits,” I mutter.
He laughs some more. “I like what I like.”
“Clearly,” I reply with a roll of my eyes.
I look around the room again. There are a few giant paintings, including another one of a cardinal. There are even a few books on a table.
“How come those aren’t in the library?” I ask, pointing at them with my fork.
