“Mac and Jett, you can’t be serious?”
“Yeah, apparently his mom was some huge Joan Jett fan. Actually their story is pretty amazing, but I’ll save that for some other time,” he teases.
I look at him; it is clear there’s a lot about him that has changed. A lot I didn’t know. There is an entire other life we’ve lived since we’ve been apart. I know I’m in love with Henry, and Christian will never be able to change that, no matter how many pseudo dates we go on. But even knowing that, part of me is glad I’ve agreed to this little arrangement. Once Christian realizes there isn’t any hope for us, maybe there’s a chance we can be friends again; and for that reason, I’m looking forward to getting to know him better.
“I have a feeling you have a lot of stories like the one with Mac and Jett,” I comment, watching him as he scoops up the chopped veggies and places them in the cast iron skillet.
“Oh, please—I wasn’t the one jetting around Europe for the past four years. How many Dukes or Princes did you get to propose?”
“There were a few.”
“I’m sure.” He smiles at me. I do love his smile. That was something that would always cheer up my day when we used to live in New York—so long ago now.
“Please, you know I’m kidding, right? I didn’t have time to get serious with anyone.”
“Except Henry.”
“Yeah, I told you, we met on the flight back to the States,” I remind him. Suddenly there’s a tension in the room. Henry is probably the last thing we should be talking about. It only makes me think about how angry he will be that I agreed to such an idiotic proposal in the first place.
“So what are you making me?” I inquire, completely clueless.
“Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”
“Oh God, no! No more surprises. Please, tell me.”
“If you insist.”
“I do, I’m starving,” I say, clutching my stomach, as if it were wildly growling.
“No worries. Once these are all in the oven, I prepped some salads for us,” he informs me proudly.
“Oh my, you are certainly well-prepared.”
“What can I say? I’m a man who knows what he wants and will do whatever it takes to get it done.”
“All righty—that sounded creepy,” I joke.
“Agreed, sorry. I know you’re not a huge meat fan, so I prepared a vegetarian-based feast. This is a twist on shepherd’s pie.”
“With mushrooms?” I ask inquisitively.
“Yup, with an Italian flare. It has a marinara base, which, by the way, I also made myself ahead of time. There is also some roasted eggplant, sautéed mushrooms, and then a cheesy polenta on top.” As he explains the dish, I feel my mouth begin to water.
“Mmm …” I moan. “That sounds amazing.”
“I’m not done, my lady. In the warming oven, as we speak, are cheese stuffed poblano chiles that have been roasted and battered, then deep fried for a little crispiness. When you have an entire kitchen like this at your disposal, you can get very creative.”
“You’re going to have to tell me sometime what dirt you have on Tito to get the keys to this place for the night,” I say with a huge grin.
His expression shifts into a serious one. “Never.”
I laugh. “And what’s for dessert?” As soon as the words slip out of my mouth I realize they came out in a way that can easily be construed as dirty. My eyes dart to his, and I smile. I can see it on his face—he heard the accidental inflection, but he wasn’t about to take the bait.
Christian licks his lips before continuing, “How about we leave dessert a surprise?”
I nod. “I can handle one surprise, I suppose.”
“Oh— you suppose?”
“Yes,” I confirm with as much attitude as possible. Even if I know there is no hope for Christian’s plan to win my heart back, it is nice being able to spend a few nights together, just enjoying each other’s company the way we once did. God, we used to laugh so much. There were times I’d wake up with my sides sore because of how hard I’d laughed the night before.
He is a perfect gentleman all through dinner. He is true to his word, and there is no inappropriate physical contact between us during our, as he insisted on calling it, ‘date.’ As long as this is how things remain, I see no need to bother with telling Henry about Christian’s antics. We’ll go on the next two dates, and this silliness will be behind us.
I push myself away from the table, patting my stomach. “Wow, I’m stuffed.” I then release a small belch, leaning my head to one side.