“I’m definitely not going to complain about you making me food. Especially because that looks like it came straight from a restaurant. My sandwich skills consist of grilled cheese or DoorDash.”
Mateo squints at me. “No more DoorDash, unless you want to dash to the garage door to shout your order for the day.”
“Got it. GarageDash.”
“Exactly.” He smiles and the butterflies break through their cage,making my heart feel light and fluttery. This is so easy. This happiness feels like a natural byproduct of being around Mateo. Our friendly banter comes so effortlessly. I don’t want to give it up, even if it’s on the edge of flirting and every time we talk the butterflies multiply. Alex’s voice echoes in my mind, but my racing heart drowns out the sound of his words.
Mateo rocks back on his heels, suddenly sheepish. “So, I was thinking. We’re supposed to be newlyweds, right? That means we need to go on a few public dates to convince the press that we actually, ya know, like each other.”
I dip my finger in the salad dressing before licking it, my taste buds exploding from the balsamic vinegar as I think about going on a date with Mateo. “I can see the wisdom in that idea.”
His dazzling smile is back. “How about tonight? There’s a salvadoreño restaurant that’s decently close. I think it’s time I introduce you to el plato típico de El Salvador.”
I’ve heard Spanish and I know Mateo is half salvadoreño, but I haven’t downloaded Duolingo yet.
Mateo notices my arched eyebrow and smirks. “It means the food of my people. You definitely need to try it, especially after I had to suffer through the food ofyourpeople the other night.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. The grimace on Mateo’s face mimics the disgust from the other night when he ate the tzatziki shrimp cucumber rounds. The memory plays on repeat in my mind as if it’s my favorite reel I have saved to watch when I need a good laugh. I’m never going to forget the look of utter horror on his face after he shoved that appetizer in his mouth. Best entertainment of that night, and luckily the craziest thing that happened, seeing as the rest of the night was filled with us talking to people.
I dramatically sigh. “I guess you can introduce me to the food of your people. Any hints? Do I need to prepare for anything? Please tell me it’s not spicy.”
He throws his head back, his curls shifting and begging me to sink myfingers into them as he laughs. Next thing I know, he’s leaning on the desk, his face a foot away from mine. “No, mi amor. It’s not spicy. It’s utter deliciousness. You’re never going to be the same.”
Mateo straightens, putting his hand on his heart as he turns toward my window. I follow his gaze and see the ocean. I swear I can see hearts in his eyes as he looks out at the water.
“You’ve convinced me with your dramatics. Now I need to finish my work if you want to leave at a decent time for dinner.” I point at him, then the door.
“I’ll be outside your room to pick you up at six-thirty. Wear something casual.” He smiles and winks before shutting the door behind him.
The minute he leaves, I grab my fork and stab this delicious salad with perfect pomegranates, walnuts, feta cheese, and a delicious balsamic dressing. The sandwich has a focaccia crust, and not only turkey, but bacon as well, along with the necessary avocado and other greens.
The saying goes that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I don’t know who "they" is, but I think they might have forgotten an important part of the saying.
The way to awoman’sheart is cooking her delicious food she doesn’t have to make for herself. If anyone were to deny that fact, I’d fight ‘em.
Part of my brain whispers that I shouldn’t be getting attached, my discussion with Alex and the wordfriend zonewritten on the blackboard of my mind. But each delicious bite of my sandwich erases the chalk while each crunch of lettuce takes a hammer to the walls around my heart.
Chapter 23
Pupusa Pranks
Holly
Mateo holds the door open for me as we enter the restaurant. It’s not really a sit-down restaurant, but it doesn’t give off a fast-food feel either. It’s as if they’ve combined into this homey space that smells like salsa and grilled meat. My stomach rumbles, already craving whatever we’re going to eat, especially if it tastes as good as it smells in here.
I turn to Mateo, gesturing for him to lead the way. His smile is wide and he’s vibrating with excitement. “I’m so pumped for you to try a pupusa. It’s going to be life-changing.”
His joy is infectious, and I find myself matching his grin. “Well then, let’s go! I always love life-changing food.”
Mateo tugs me toward the counter, our fingers intertwined, a feeling I’m getting addicted to.
He reaches the counter and peruses the menu. It’s written in Spanish, with very small English translations under just a few items. I’m overwhelmed by the options. I reach into my purse, ready to utilize Google translate, when Mateo's hand blocks my view of the screen.
Mateo’s eyes meet mine. “Do you trust me, mi vida? Can Iorder for you?”
I’m touched by his simple questions. Once again, Mateo is proving he’s better than any man I’ve ever met, simply because he asked instead of assuming.
“Yes. You can order for me.”
