“Ahh.”
What does that mean?
“Thanks again for the burrito.” Creed waves and walks away.
***
“Spill the beans. How did you start dating and not tell anyone?” I glare at Cordelia as she scoops white chocolate mousse into a piping bag.
“I’m not dating him. Bear is just friendly and in love with my cooking. Like in love. That man is obsessed with sweets. He lives up to his moniker.”
No way. “He didn’t seem like that was the case when I met him yesterday at lunch with Bram.”
Cordelia blushes. “Bear is a nice man, and we’ve hung out a few times, but we aren’t dating. Could you see me introducing him to my parents? They would lose their minds.”
“So?”
“Excuse me?” She sets down the piping bag.
“So what? Think of all the things that you’ve done, regardless of the fact that your parents lost their minds. Remember when we went away for spring break, and your parents called the FBI to come looking for you?” That was a hysterical knock on the door.
“I couldn’t just stop living because—You’re right. But I’m not sure Bear is the one. He’s a nice man, but he seems to be more interested in my food.”
What man wouldn’t be interested in her food? “What are you feeling? Are you attracted to him?”
She sinks down onto a stool. Something she hasn’t done the entire time I’ve been here. “Bear is an attractive man. Not in the sexy model sort of way. But I don’t know. Love may not be for me.”
Love definitely isn’t for me. “Just don’t not give love a chance because of your family.”
***
“You know, we’re starting to make this a habit.” I sink down into the seat across from Bram.
“And isn’t it a lovely one?”
It is. I set my newspaper down on the table.
“Is that today’s Urbium Times paper?”
“Yes?” Do people here not get the paper?
“How? How do you have today’s paper? I get the prior week’s papers shipped out to me every Monday morning. How are you getting it daily?”
“It’s at the end of my driveway every morning.”
“The end—” He shakes his head. “Do any of your neighbors get it as well?”
Like I know what newspaper people read. The grumpy neighbor next door certainly doesn’t. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“That’s because it’s not available here. And let me tell you. I’ve tried to get it delivered.” Bram leans back in his chair, staring at me like I’ve grown another head. “Just how rich are you?”
One never talks about money. It’s impolite.
“That rich, huh?”
I want to avert my gaze and shrink away, but instead I sit up straighter and meet Bram’s eyes.
“That must have really messed with the boy you married. Next time, you should pick a man.”
