“Same,” Evie said.
He hunched his shoulders, then let them fall in defeat. “It was going to be an uphill battle to save it anyway, but there’s no hope now.”
Evie paused for a beat, then said, “I disagree. I’m not ready to accept defeat.”
Bryson’s forehead wrinkled with his incredulous frown. “Are you serious?”
The waiter interrupted them before Evie had the chance to respond.
“Here’s your tej,” the young man said. “And I told the chef this was the gentleman’s first time eating Ethiopian cuisine, so he provided a small beyainatu. It’s a sampling of the traditional vegetables, curries, and lentil stews served here.”
“That’s so sweet,” Evie said. “Please pass along our thanks to the chef.”
“Will do. I’ll be back with your entrée.”
The minute the waiter walked away, Bryson said, “Evie, you can’t be serious about The Sanctuary.”
“We’ll get back to that. Let’s eat first,” Evie said. She was grateful for the pause in their discussion. She needed a moment to consider how to best approach Bryson with her idea now that she knew he thought saving the rescue was hopeless.
“Ev.”
“I’ll explain everything,” she said. “The food won’t be good if we let it get cold.”
“Fine.” Bryson shook his head, his skepticism unmistakable.
“Good. Now, since this is your first experience with the cuisine, we need a quick lesson in how to eat beyainatu.” She broke off a piece of the spongy bread that covered the surface of the platter. “This is injera. It’s a flat bread that also serves as your utensil. You use the bread to scoop up your food. Like this.”
She demonstrated, picking up a helping of yellow lentils.
Bryson parroted her movements, choosing the gomen, a spicy, minced spinach.
“Oh my damn,” he said around a mouthful of food. He looked down at the platter, then up at her, his eyes wide with excited wonder. “Why have I never eaten Ethiopian food before?”
“I can’t answer that,” Evie said. “I eat here at least once a month. Cameron isn’t a fan, but I never let that stop me.”
“He doesn’t deserve food this good,” Bryson said around a mouthful of the intensely seasoned potatoes.
“You’re right,” she said. “I hope he never has a satisfying meal again.”
“Damn, you’ll have to tell me what that asshole did to make you feel that way about him. I always did, but it took you a while to see the light.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight. I don’t want to ruin our meal with talk about Cam.”
“Agreed,” Bryson said. “This food is too good to let him spoil it.”
“And you’re just getting started. Wait until the doro wat gets here.”
As if she’d heralded it, the waiter arrived with a clay potbrimming with aromatic stewed chicken and vegetables. They gorged themselves on the flavorful dish and sweet, mead-like wine.
By Bryson’s third pleasurable moan, Evie was ready to either jump out of her skin or jumphim. She hadn’t considered the unintended consequences of inviting him to a meal where he would be required to suck his fingers every two minutes.
“And here I thought I was moving back home to eat my fill of gumbo and jambalaya,” Bryson said. “Looks as if I’ll be adding Ethiopian to the list.”
Lord help the women of this city who had to sit and watch this man lick curry from his fingers.
Evie had to clear her throat. “I’m happy you’re enjoying it,” she said.
The waiter returned. “Will you be ordering dessert this evening?” he asked.
