He gazed around the restaurant and his attention settled heavily back on me. “No, I agree, actually. That is why I’m teaching. I’ve done a law firm. I’ve done low-income pro bono work. I’ve worked in a ton of different places and made a lot of money and worked ninety hours a week, and then made almost no money and worked even more hours. Teaching was just a decent schedule with an okay paycheck about something I understood.” He shrugged. “I never meant for it to be my real life, either.” He hung his head. “But I never got around to doing anything more with the other parts, somehow.”
I slid my wineglass around while I thought about what he’d said. “If you didn’t have someone who tried to do things with you, how could you?”
He stared at me and nodded, and my entire body heated when he gave me a big smile. “This is unexpected.”
“What?” I asked, feeling as if maybe he was gearing up to be sarcastic again, but he only shrugged.
“We actually have something in common that isn’t, you know....” He glanced down.
I snorted, waggling my eyebrows. “Fucking?”
“Yes,” he hissed out as the server in white came toward us with larger bowls this time. I was hopeful for half a second—until I saw there were only a few mouthfuls of liquid at the bottom that reminded me of my papa’s squash soup. Since our old spoons had been taken when the dishes were cleared away and no one had brought new ones, I picked up my bowl and slurped, and Flynn did the same.
“It’s good. Savory. Why isn’t there more?”
“To keep you hungry for the other courses,” Flynn said, lips twitching with amusement.
I laughed until the server who had seated us, the one who seemed to oversee everyone, glared at me from across the room.
“I like to watch crime shows and figure out who the killer is,” he declared out of nowhere and set his bowl on the table.
“I like Marvel movies,” I said and dropped my bowl with aclink. He nodded as if I’d revealed a national secret. I thought maybe the wine was getting to him but didn’t say as much. It was cute. We went on randomly telling each other bits and pieces about ourselves and laughing over the answers until the very serious server came back. I was horrified when he put two plates about the size of a fifty-cent piece on the table, one in front of each of us. He handed over two sets of silver chopsticks, and Flynn snapped his together.
We stared at each other and tried not to laugh as the server left at top speed.
“Do you think he gave up on developing our palates?” Flynn asked, and a giggle slipped out he’d tried to hold in.
“Definitely. What kind of meat is that?” I poked at the three miserably small pieces of something in the center of my plate.
“I’m going for it.” Flynn used his chopsticks to gracefully lift a piece of the food so he could bite it. He shook his head and his eyes watered as he swallowed. “I wouldn’t. Spicy.” He chugged his glass of wine, then picked up mine and drained it. “Good, though.”
Dying, I laid my chopsticks across the plate and howled with laughter, not caring anymore about what I looked like. Apparently my antics weren’t acceptable because we were served tiny pieces of something black on doilies—I was instantly suspicious after everything else we’d been given tonight—and the black leather check holder was flung on the table. There was no receipt inside, only a place to slip my card. Opening my wallet, I felt like maybe we’d been swindled. We were getting kicked out before all the promised courses were delivered, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. The head server snatched the leather check holder the moment my card touched it and walked off.
Flynn held up the tiny piece of whatever was on the doily and sniffed at it. “I think this is chocolate.” His handsome face softened and he raised his eyebrows at me.
“I am so hungry.” I stuffed the piece of suspicious food between my lips and moaned at the normal, totally predictable taste of chocolate, nodding. Flynn quickly popped his piece into his mouth as well. The head server was back at warp speed and laid the check holder on the table.
“Cardigan’s isn’t foryou,” he said with a smile before he stomped off again.
Flynn snatched the check holder before I could, and his eyes bugged as soon as he peeked inside. He dropped it open on the table, and I slid it closer, laughing at the six-hundred-dollar bill. “Well, at least two hundred of this is the wine. I can live with that,” I grumped.
“How?” he wheezed. “Was it the cum soup that was so expensive?”
Shushing him, I added a tip, then signed my name. “Well, now we know not to do this again,” I said with a snort. “I should’ve known better. The guy who talked about this place is an artist. He probably appreciated the composition of the food on the plate and the lighting and didn’t even taste anything. I’m going to ask him what the hell he was thinking.”
“Maybe the wine-to-sustenance ratio did him in.” Flynn shook his head and stared at our empty wine bottle sadly.
Chuckling all over again, I tucked my card in my pocket and tossed the pen on the table. “Come on.” I stood, more than ready to get out of this place.
The server was at my side so fast I clung to the table in shock, and Flynn guffawed to the point he got a sharp-toothed smile from the man. “Shall I deliver a message for the chef? Most people leave their regards.”
Flynn’s mouth quirked toward a smile. “If you can’t say something nice—”
“This was....” I winced. “Terrible. Except for the rolls. It’s hard to mess up bread. And the squash stuff was okay.”
Flynn shook his head as the server’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t think he actually wanted a critique, Sir.” Flynn closed his eyes fast, but a rush of happiness swirled into my gut as he blushed while I stared at him.
The head server had taken a step back from me, holding the leather check holder as if it was a shield.
