“And I’m the same man I was the first night we met and the last night we were together.”
Awareness sizzled between us as I thought about being inside him, and from his flushed face and heavy-lidded eyes, I imagined his thoughts were the same.
“Do you still think I’m that pompous, obnoxious man you wrote about in your blog? That I believe I’m better than the average New Yorker?” It still rankled that Torre had that opinion of my reviews and me. The Internet was forever, and that black mark against my name would always remain.
“Why don’t you tell people about your charity work in helping aspiring chefs? It’s a great cause. Steph told me how her brother’s life has changed because of what you did.”
“I’m not doing it for acknowledgment.” Uncomfortable with the praise, I shifted in my seat. “It’s not me. I only give them the outlet. They’re the ones with the talent.”
“I don’t know. You’ve got plenty of talent, hidden and otherwise.”
Despite our intimacy, I felt like I didn’t have the right to touch him.
“I didn’t tell you about being a food critic atUltimatebecause I never tell anyone. You know it’s a thankless, anonymous job. I didn’t lie to you to get you into bed with me. I haven’t hidden anything. I am who I am.”
Torre snorted. “Nice try, Popeye.” He grew solemn. “I never lied to you either. What you do for a living isn’t as important to me as who you are inside.”
“What if there’s nothing there?” How could I tell him who I was when I wasn’t sure myself?
“Presley told me how if it wasn’t for you, he and Nate wouldn’t be together.”
At that I could laugh. “That’s because I basically threatened Nate. Presley is the best thing to happen to Nate, and I’ve never seen Presley so happy. He deserves it after everything he’s been through.”
Torre stroked my face. “And after saying that, you still think you don’t believe in romance…or love?”
I couldn’t answer him, and we sat in silence, with the shadows of the evening deepening around us.
