“Good.”
He picked up his own fork. Took a bite.
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“This is good.”
“I told you.”
“You did.”
The doro wat came after, then a little kitfo. I sat back and looked at Julian.
“Dessert is coming.”
I shook my head and reached across the table and took his hand.
The pastéis came out twenty minutes later. Six of them on a small plate, the tops caramelized the way Marcos caramelized them, with a dusting of cardamom and a small cup of Ethiopian coffee on the side.
I bit into one.
The cardamom hit first. Then the cream. Then the burnt sugar. Then the smell of the coffee.
I set the rest of the pastéis down.
I sat back in my chair and looked at the man across the table. “This is the best Valentine’s Day — hell, any date — I’ve ever been on. I want you to hear me say it.”
“I’m glad. That is the point. I just want you to be happy, Lyss.”
“I am happy.Beyondhappy.”
He nodded.
Marcos came out as we were finishing. Sat with us for five minutes. Asked about my mother. Asked about my work. Said one warm thing in Portuguese to me that I caught half of. Shook Julian's hand, they thanked each other. Then he went back.
“My belly is full. My heart is happy.” I reached across the table and took his hand. “Thank you for this day.”
He turned my hand over in his and didn’t say anything for a second, and whatever moved across his face, he let me see it.
Then he leaned in to my ear. “I’m hungry.”
“We just ate.”
He looked at me seriously, until I processed it. “Oh. Okay.”
“You gonna feed me?”
“Yes. I am.”
He kissed the corner of my mouth, then my neck. “Mine or yours.”
“Mine,” I said, thinking about the new lingerie waiting in my drawer.
31/
ride `em, cowgirl
THIS CHAPTER HAS A SOUNDTRACK
