While Stefan was busy at the back pressing buttons and opening and closing cabinets, I took in my surroundings.I bit my lip to stop giggling.
No, I'd never been on an airplane before.But I'd bet none of the commercial planes were like this.Not if they were modeled after the ones I'd seen on TV and in movies.
Stefan's plane was luxurious.My fingers caressed the soft, buttery leather.These couches and seats alone must have cost a bundle.Everything in here gleamed and shined.
A delicious smell floated over to me, and I inhaled deeply.“That smells good.What is it?”
Stefan answered, “Spaghetti and meat sauce.”
I laughed and shook my head.“I'm not eating that.Is there a sandwich or something?”
Stefan poked his head around to look at me.“Why not?It's great.I know you eat this.You made it for me many times.”
Memories of me cooking for him in my crappy apartment came flooding back.He remembered.Stefan remembered me cooking for him.And he remembered what I made.
It wasn't like I had the best ingredients at home to cook with.
Obviously, I was and always will be grateful to the various food banks that I had to use.I tried my best to use them sparingly.Never abusing my privileges and always using up every last morsel of food.But sometimes—there wasn't a whole lot of variety.Especially by the time I could show up—or more like by the time my crappy brown car allowed me to show up.Many times, my car would crap out right in the middle of a long line, making it even more difficult to get the food that I needed.
Suddenly, a feeling of embarrassment settled over me.Looking around at this plane—Stefan's plane—
His very, very, very expensive plane.
And I remembered the crappy food I'd fed him.
Oh, my gosh.
I was mortified.What must he think about me?About my—financial situation?
“Francesca?What's wrong?”Stefan's voice brought me out of my current thoughts.
I blinked and said, “I'm fine.But I don't think Giselle will appreciate getting this dress back with meat sauce stains all over it.”
He laughed and went back to what he was doing.“She won't give a fuck.Besides,” he pushed a button and opened another cabinet, “we won't spill.”
A moment later, he walked to me with a heaping plate of spaghetti and meat sauce.All I saw was a huge disaster in the making.He sat down beside me, and I noticed that he'd removed his tie and had undone a few buttons.His chest showed through his open shirt, making me want to reach out and touch him there.It had been so long since I'd laid my hands on Stefan.I barely remembered how his skin felt under my palms.
“Open,” he said, holding a fork filled with spaghetti and meat sauce.Yes, he'd twirled it, so it wasn't a dripping mess.But that didn't mean it wasn't going to suddenly decide to slop all over Giselle's dress.
“You eat.I'm okay,” I lied and moved away.Maybe I could sneak into the back and make a sandwich after I changed.There was no way I was going to eat freaking spaghetti right now.
“Francesca,” Stefan's voice held an edge to it now, “open.”He held the fork up to my mouth.
“Good grief,” I whispered and opened.I wasn't going to wait for that sauce to start dripping on me.As soon as I closed my lips around the fork, I shut my eyes and moaned, “Oh, yum.”I chewed, enjoying the spicy, meaty taste over the buttery noodles.“Did Eve make this?”I asked as the thought occurred to me.The noodles tasted a lot better than the boxed kind.And they had a similar texture to the lasagna I had earlier that she made.
Stefan smiled and shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.“Yep,” he said over his mouthful.
“It's the best pasta I've ever tasted.I'm going to have to ask her for the recipe.”
Stefan's eyes rose to mine.“Yours is better, Chesca.”
I wasn't sure why it mattered that he thought that.Or that he said it—even if he didn't really believe it.
Just the fact that he'd said it warmed my heart almost as much as that wonderful sauce had.
“You're lying.Eve's is better.”
Stefan frowned slightly and said, “Open,” as he offered me more.Which of course—I took.“Eve is an excellent cook.And baker.But you're miles ahead of her.”
