Instead of saying more, he dared to smirk.
He turned away and put his hand on the cart to push it down the cereal aisle.
I needed a moment to fully understand what that conversation was, and when my body finally listened, I started following him.
I didn’t give him any attention as I picked out two boxes of cereal, and down by the cartons of milk, I grabbed three of the almond milk.
“Why don’t you drink normal milk? You got that weird intolerance or something?”
He said it as if being lactose intolerant was just a made-up thing. But he was a man. He probably thought period pains weren’t real either.
“No, I’m not lactose intolerant. I have a milk allergy.”
He raised a brow. “Isn’t that the same?”
“No, it’s not the same, Callan.” I sighed, but before I could get annoyed with his lack of knowledge, I decided that not everyone on this planet knew certain things. I bet he knew much more about,I don’t know, banks and properties than I did.
He just nodded, then continued down the next aisle quickly, filling the cart as he went. He grabbed snacks I wouldn’t normally buy, and when I gave him a look, he shrugged. “I like this stuff,” he said simply.
“Is that all you eat?” I asked because I truly hadn’t really seen him eat actual, cooked meals.
“No.” He smirked, giving me a cocky look. “I also eat your food.”
“Ha, funny.” I shook my head at his attempt to annoy me. “You know, if you ever want to eat something, you just have to tell me. I’m a pretty good cook.”
“I have Francine for that.”
“How much does Francine make working for you?” It was a valid question, considering Francine pretty much did all the housework back home. She cleaned, she made sure the guests had everything they needed, and, apparently, she also cooked.
“She makes enough.”
“Yeah,duh, I figured that much. But I want to know how much you pay her.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Because if my career as a screenwriter doesn’t work out, I might consider becoming your housemaid.”
He shook his head. “You’re too smart to be a housemaid.”
I raised a brow. “Are you saying Francine is stupid?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” He shot me a glare. “Francine is close to seventy, and she’s been a housemaid all her life. It’s what she loves doing. You wouldn’t love being a housemaid.”
Hm.
“Still, let’s say I won’t make a career with what I love…would you consider me as a housemaid?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I already told you why.”
“Because I’m smart?”
He nodded, turning his gaze to the wall of chips in front of us.
“And you think every smart person will become successful in their field?”
