“Well, you’re missing out.”
“Let’s see if they have anything like that here.”
We end up in a semi-private booth while we wait for a bowl of passionfruit ice cream to be delivered from the kitchen.
He tells me his favorite fruit is apple.
“That feels very Midwest. Does your mom make salads that aren’t really salads?”
“Yeah. Especially for a church potluck.”
“What kind of church?”
“Literally any kind.”
I laugh out loud. “What does that mean?”
“She really just likes a potluck.” He grins shamelessly. “We’re Catholic. My parents more than me and my siblings. I don’t remember the last time I went to church. My sister is getting married this summer, so…that’ll be the next time. But my mom is big on inter-faith stuff, and growing up we travelled a lot so she would take us to random churches for Christmas and Easter services. How about you?”
I take a deep breath. “Not really religious. Andverypro-choice.”
“That makes sense. And same,” he adds quickly. “My mom is, too. She’d want me to tell you that. My sister, too, although now that I’m saying that, I’m vaguely remembering a lecture once about how it shouldn’t matter if I have a sister or a mother?—”
“It’s okay. I get the idea. And that’s good.” I relax again.
“You asked me if I was an asshole. In the bar.” Logan tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze soft. “Is this related to that?”
I nod. “My father and I don’t see eye to eye on almost anything. He argues with my mother, too, but it’s not arguing, it’s just…yelling. I hate it.”
He cups my face in his hands and kisses me. And kisses and kisses, until I’ve softened completely.
“My sister is a trained chef,” he murmurs against my lips.
“What?”
“Just telling you something more about my family so you don’t think we’re only Catholic potlucks.”
I laugh at how silly he is. I ignore the desperate pulse inside me to know more. He tells me more anyway.
“She loves passionfruit, probably. And her salads are all vegetable based.”
“You’re really doing a good job selling your sister.” I smile at him.
“She’s fiery, too. I think she did get out the vote stuff on campus?”
“Is that a question?” I stare at him and start laughing. Our conversation is veering pretty wildly now, but I like that he’s trying to impress me.
I like it way too much.
“I’d ask her but she’s pregnant and asleep.”
I take his face in my hands and make serious eye contact. “Okay, I believe that you’re not an asshole and you come from a good family.”
“I donate money to good causes,” he adds quickly before I try to kiss him, but we’re both laughing again. This time we just don’t stop. It has to be the champagne. I lean against him, wrapping his suit jacket tight around me, and I give myself over to the giggles.
“Your laugh turns me on,” he murmurs against my hair. “Give me another kiss.”
“Can’t. Laughing too hard.”
