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There was no response. I tried once more and was about to turn around.
His voice called through the door, “Come in.”
I opened the door and saw him seated at the desk.
He was leaning back against his swivel chair, but the weird thing was, other than his phone, the surface of his desk was completely clean, as if he had just been sitting there doing nothing this whole time.
“I … uh … made some dinner and rainbow cupcakes. It’s something I’m trying, but I’m not sure it will taste good. I kinda used some pretty unusual ingredients that I found in your Chef’s pantry. You know, cinnamon, and lemon, and …”
You’re rambling!
I cleared my throat and got to the point, “I just wanted to say thank you for all you’re doing for me. So there’s dinner if you’re hungry.”
He didn’t move while his expectant expression remained, as if he was waiting for something, or expected me to say more.
So, I ploughed on, “It’s not a big deal what we did last night, and um … this morning so … uh … I hope we’re okay.” I was done talking and prepared to leave if he didn’t throw me a bone too.
“We are,”’ he said abruptly and rose to his feet. “Let’s go eat this meal of yours.”
“Sure,” I said suddenly nervous. “I hope you like your meals spicy.”
“Spicer than you like it,” he said, picking up his phone from the desk to slip into his pocket.
I was confused. “How do you know that?”
His mouth quirked upwards. “Aldie, you, and I once played the spicy noodle game together, and I clearly remember you collapsed midway.”
It hit me then, and boy, was I offended. “You’re one to talk,” I retorted. “I clearly remember you drinking a gallon of milk afterwards.”
“I might have done that, but that was after I won the game.”
He said this with such a smug chuckle it almost made me want to douse the whole pot with chili.
Then he walked around the desk, and the coldness left his gray eyes. They softened and darkened. He reached out and ran the back of his fingers down my cheek. “I can still remember how red your cheeks were that night. And how beautiful you looked.”
I stopped breathing as all the hairs on my body stood to attention. We had not been this close to each other since this morning when he had … I could feel my insides begin to melt, but I also knew my cupcakes would be good only for the trash can and the meal ruined if I stayed here much longer.
Still …
His gaze lowered to my lips, then back up to my eyes.
I felt my heart start to beat wildly. My lovely cakes. What would my mother say if she saw me deliberately allowing good food to go to waste? A lifetime of lack and need pressed itself on my conscience. “Uh—I …” My voice shook. “The food should be ready now. Could you help me set the table, please?”
“Sure,” he replied, but there was a raw edge to his voice.
I tried to catch my breath as we walked together to the kitchen.
20
Bianca
“Since it’s just the two of us,” Levan said. “Why don’t we eat at the counter?”
I glanced towards the inviting trio of high counter chairs by the island. “Sounds good,” I agreed as I sprinkled fresh, finely chopped parsley over our steaming plates of minced beef and tomato sauce pasta.
“Looks amazing,” he said as he came over to take the plates. He set them side by side on the counter.
I joined him with two bottles of water. “Cheese?” I asked.
He nodded.
I grated some parmesan over his food, then mine before sitting next to him. “I hope it’s good,” I commented nervously.
“I hope so too.” Picking up his fork, he dug in.
My heart felt as if it was damn well bouncing from one corner of my chest to the other, as I waited for his verdict.
“This may just be the best pasta I’ve ever had,” he said.
I tightened my lips to hide how happy his compliment made me feel, but my reddening cheeks must have betrayed me. “Thank you,” I mumbled, as I sneaked a glance at him.
We were so close together our shoulders were almost touching, the heat from the plates nothing to what I could feel sizzling between us.
“Why did you ask,” he began, “if we were okay?”
Uh oh … dangerous territory. “What do you mean?”
“Just now, in my study, after you said last night was no big deal, you asked if we were okay.”
This might just be the last question I wanted to answer in any depth. My first thought was to chicken out, but then I straightened my shoulders and decided to push onwards. I didn’t know how little time we had left together. So what if I got rejected … again. Cowardice and shame were for people who were not staring death and destruction in the face. “Well,” I swallowed, painfully wondering where the lump in my throat had suddenly come from. “When you came back this evening, you pretty much looked at me as if I was a complete stranger. Was last night just … a one-time thing? An itch we needed to scratch?”
