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“Sounds good. You sure I can’t help?”
“Nope. I got this. You relax.”
She sat at the table and looked around. “Your kitchen looks like mine.”
“Oh yeah? In what way?” Chet took the salad he’d already prepared out of the refrigerator and tossed it with some dressing.
“Not used a lot.”
They both laughed at that.
“I don’t mean it negatively. We both have jobs that don’t allow for lots of time at home to cook.”
“That’s true. Do you like to cook?”
“I do. I just don’t have a lot of time for it. And I’ve never wanted to be the main chef at the diner or anything… Any cooking, I learned from my dad.”
“It sounds like you two were close.”
“We were.”
He looked up from the salad. She was staring into her wine glass, one finger moving up and down the side of it, as if trying to decide whether to say more.
He held his breath. How much would she trust him with?
“He left the diner to me,” she added. “When he passed away.”
Chet exhaled softly. He had guessed as much but to have her share it with him, voluntarily, was a gift.
“I’m sorry, Meg. I can see why the diner means so much to you.”
She looked at him. “Thank you.”
Their eyes met for a brief moment before she turned to take another sip of wine.
Chet knew that meant she was done with the topic for now so he turned back to the salad. “You okay if we dine outside tonight?”
“Really? That sounds nice, but it’s kind of cold.”
“I know. But I think I’ve thought of all we need.” He turned and winked at her. “Trust me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Chet’s words gaveMeg pause as she raised her wine glass for another sip.
Trust me.
The Etta James song began to play in her head again.
Trust.
Meg watched as Chet pulled a tray of garlic bread from the oven, sliced the lasagna, and prepared a plate for each of them. Even the way he moved around the kitchen said he had no doubts about who he was, what he was doing. He was confident, she decided, but with no trace of arrogance. She felt lighter, having told him about her dad. It was as if sharing with Rachel had unlocked something, allowed her to see that yes, maybe she did have people worth trusting in her life.
Something warm sparked inside her. She liked the idea of trusting Chet.
“Would you mind grabbing both of our glasses?” He smiled as he passed her and headed out of the kitchen.
“Not at all.” Meg did so, then followed him.
