Gisselle's smile deepened, and she nodded toward the living room. "Couch okay? My dining table is currently hosting blueprints and my laptop."
"Yeah, of course."
We settled on her couch, with plates balanced on our laps. Gisselle took a bite and made a sound that sent heat straight through me.
"Oh my God, this is amazing," she moaned, briefly closing her eyes.
I took a bite, pleased with how it turned out. "Glad you approve."
"Approve? I might need to rethink our dinner plans for the restaurant and have you cook for me instead."
The casual way she referenced our future plans made me realize we were building something.
We ate for a few moments before she spoke again. "I know you said you were thinking about me today, but what else was on your mind while you were cooking?"
"Honestly, it's the first day I didn't think about it. I enjoyed today. It's been a while since I spent a day just having fun."
She nodded, setting her fork down. "Same. Columbus was all work, networking, proving myself in a field where being a Black woman meant working twice as hard for half the recognition. I was in a relationship, too, but it wasn't healthy."
The way she said it made my jaw tighten. "He hurt you?"
"Not physically, but the classic gaslighting, I didn't recognize until I was already deep in it."
"I'm sorry." The thought of anyone making Gisselle doubt herself made something protective rise in me.
"What about you? I'm guessing there's a reason the firefighter calendar model is single on a Sunday night," she said.
I smiled at her compliment and set my plate down on the coffee table. "There was someone, years ago, before the warehouse fire that gave me this." I pointed to the scar on my arm. "After I lost my best friend in that fire, I wasn't in a place to be with anyone. I shut down, and she eventually got tired of trying to break through walls I hadn't even realized I'd built."
Gisselle looked at me. "And since then?"
"Work. Family. Occasional dates that never went anywhere because I wouldn't let them… until now."
Gisselle's expression softened with recognition, and she smiled.
We finished eating and moved the conversation back to lighter topics like her mother's persistent calls to see if she'd met any nice people yet and my sister's dating advice.
Gisselle set her empty plate on the coffee table. "Thank you. This was a nice surprise."
"Someone has to make sure you remember to eat," I replied.
She rolled her eyes playfully but smiled. "My hero, saving me from starvation, one home-cooked meal at a time."
There was genuine appreciation in her voice, and I wondered in what other ways I might be able to take care of her. I stood up and gathered our empty plates with the efficiency of a man used to cleaning up after himself. Gisselle rose too, and we headed to her kitchen.
"You don't have to help with cleaning. You already cooked," she reminded me, turning on the faucet.
"My mama raised me better than that. Besides, two sets of hands make light work."
Gisselle smiled, passing me a soapy plate. "You sound like my dad. He always said that before getting me to help with yardwork."
"Smart man." I chuckled.
She handed me the last fork. "You know what's weird? That this doesn't feel weird."
I raised an eyebrow. "Me washing dishes in your kitchen?"
"Any of it. You showing up with dinner, us talking about exes, and whatever this is becoming." She gestured between us.
