Page 64 of Xavier

He nods as if to accept the praise. "You weren't so great a Lady though."

"Hey!"

"You hogged the spaghetti; you know you did! You're supposed to meet in the middle, not hoover up almost the whole thing!"

"I was hungry!"

"Speaking of which," he points behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see a parade of waiters carrying dishes come out from the elevator and lay them out in front of us.

I bite my tongue waiting for them to leave before I give into the laughs.

"Oh my god. What. Is. That?" I point to the piled plate in front of me.

"It's penne e quattro formaggio e truffle a la Jaxon Sinclair."

"It's MAC AND CHEESE!" I cackle, so loud I’m sure they can hear me on the streets.

"I told him he had to use some sort of orange cheese or else you wouldn't eat it. 'It has to look like it came out of a box' is exactly what I said, if you must know."

"Oh my god, what must he think, us showing up in PJs and now you requesting mac and cheese.'

"He's thinking 'Gee, Xavier, thanks for cutting this month’s rent bill in half' is what he's thinking!"

"Xavier. You didn’t!"

"Shut up and eat. Your mac and cheese is getting congealed. Or whatever orange cheese does."

I fill up my fork with the delicious smelling food and cram it into my face.

“Ohmyeffingod,” I moan through a mouthful of creamy pasta.

“Yeah,” Xavier nods, his mouth just as full, “this almost beats Kraft.”

“Yeah, almost, if Kraft could get their hands on cheap truffles. Ughhh, this is so good,” I mumble through another mouthful.

There are a few quiet minutes as we both enjoy our dinner. The pasta is creamy and unctuous and cheesy and decadent. My plate is almost empty when I see Xavier reach across the table with his fork and try to stab one of my penne tubes.

“Wow, hey, stay on your side!” I pull my plate closer to me.

“Rude! My plate was the same size as yours!”

“So?”

“I’m bigger, I should get more. You owe me anyway!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-huh, Lady!”

I growl and roll my eyes. I spear one of the penne tubes and lift it towards Xavier’s mouth. He grins and opens wide.

Just as he clamps down, I pull the fork away and pop the pasta into my mouth.

“Mmmmmm, yummy. Isn’t it funny how the last piece is always the best?”

“Bitch,” he hisses and stares down at his plate, forlorn.

I giggle and reach for the half-filled wine glass. The swirl leaves ribbons of liquid claret on the bowl of the glass and I watch them slide down toward the stem. I take a small sip and I close my eyes, savoring it. When I open my eyes, Xavier has moved my empty plate away and replaced it with a small cupcake, speared by a single candle.