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“Yes, thank you Mrs. Patel. Can I help clean up?” I begin to stand, but she shakes her head till I sit back down.
“No, no, I’ve got this. You guys have somewhere you need to be, right?”
Jaron looks at his watch and quickly stands up. “Oh yeah. We don’t want to be late.”
Jaron walks around the table and pulls out my chair. I rise slowly and stretch my legs. I’m stuffed. Jaron reaches for my hand, right in front of his mom, which surprises me. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and tells us to have fun. Jaron doesn’t seem to mind holding my hand in front of his mom or letting her kiss him in front of me. I wish I could be as confident and secure as he is.
“Bye,” I say, waving. “Thank you for having me in your home and for feeding me,” I say. I feel awkward that she’s cleaning up our dinner dishes. I want to jump in and help.
Jaron walks me back through the house and out the front door. I wave to a couple of dark eyes which are peering around the corner. “Bye, girls,” I call. The heads disappear but I can hear giggling, even as Jaron pulls the door closed.
“Your family is great,” I say.
“Thanks,” Jaron says. “I kind of like them.”
“You guys seem like a perfect family. Like from one of those old TV shows,” I say.
Jaron laughs. “Oh, trust me, we aren’t. You only saw the good side. Everyone was on their best behavior. You didn’t see me fighting with my sisters, or Mom yelling at everyone to be quiet, or the baby screaming, or two of my little sisters fighting over toys in their room, or how messy their bedrooms and the kitchen are right now.” Jaron chuckles again. “Perfect family,” he whispers, shaking his head.
I watch Jaron’s face as we get in the car and begin driving. He has a really nice jaw from this side. I haven’t noticed it before. It’s strong and squared and looks clean-shaven. Right now, it’s carrying a slight smile on his face.
I wonder if Jaron knows how lucky he is. His mom taught him to cook. She encourages him and brags about his skills. She seems genuinely proud of her son. And his sisters were willing to help and serve us food. That seems pretty perfect to me.
Jaron pulls into the parking lot of The Cheesecake Factory. I squeal in delight.
“Seriously?”
Jaron smiles at me. “Yes, seriously. Your dad told me cheesecake is your favorite dessert.”
“I’m surprised he remembered that.”
“I think he knows you better than you realize.”
I shrug. “Maybe. Let’s go get some cheesecake.” I can already feel my mouth salivating.
“Are you sure you want some?” Jaron asks. “I know you said you were pretty full from dinner.” His eyes are twinkling and I know he’s joking. But boys should know better than to come between a girl and her cheesecake.
“Yeah,” I say, stepping from the car. “I’ll just use my dessert box.”
Jaron crinkles his eyes. “Your what? You mean you just want to get it To-Go?”
“No, my dessert box,” I say, patting my stomach. “Everyone has one. It’s the special room we save in our tummies for dessert. No matter how full you are, there’s always room for dessert.”
Jaron laughs. “I like that,” he says.
He laces his fingers with mine and we walk inside. The entrance is filled with people waiting for a table, and servers bustling around them.
Jaron’s face falls.
“It’s like it’s the weekend or something,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder.
“I tried to make a reservation, but they don’t do that on weekends.”
I gently touch Jaron’s arm. “It’s okay,” I say. “I don’t mind waiting. It just gives our dessert box more time to grow.”
Jaron pulls out his phone and checks the clock. “I’m just worried about getting to our next place in time,” he says.
I stare at Jaron. “There’s more?”
