“Babe, can tell from your voice you don’t much like cooking, am I right?”
“I pretty much detest it,” she replied. “I cooked dinner every night for years, with vegetables. Then once Brad and Sylvie left me, I figured I didn’t have to bother anymore. So, I don’t.”
“Left you?” he asked quietly.
Danger. Danger. Back away from that one.
“I mean when they moved out.”
“What about your mom? Where was she?” he asked.
“She bailed on us soon after we left.”
“How come you guys didn’t get taken into foster care after she bailed?” He didn’t look at her. If he did, he probably would have noticed the way she’d frozen. She thought he didn’t want to talk about the past. Nerves fluttered in her stomach making her feel ill.
“I told everyone I was twenty,” she told him. “I got a fake ID and we made sure we stayed out of trouble so no one paid much attention.”
He nodded and changed the subject. “You don’t like cooking, luckily I do. Don’t always get the chance and I won’t always be here to do it. But I got you some frozen meals. When I have more time, I’ll cook some meals to go in the freezer.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered.
“Babe, you’re living on sugar and caffeine, if I don’t do something, you’re going to get sick. It’s a wonder you have any immune system left.”
“I don’t really go anywhere to get sick,” she protested.
Crap. When was she going to learn to guard what she said?
“You were out last night, weren’t you?”
Took every ounce of courage she had to do that and then she’d nearly chickened out several times.
“Why don’t you like going out?” he asked in a soft voice. “Daisy? Look at me, please.”
It was the ‘please’ that did it. Then when she glanced up and saw the soft look on his face, she kind of melted. Total and utter goo.
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you like going out? You got a phobia about leaving the house?”
“Not that.” She sighed. “It’s just a bit scary, I guess.” She glanced down at her finger as she drew a pattern on the kitchen counter.
“Scary?” he prompted.
She shrugged, wishing she hadn’t admitted that. She was such a wimp.
Little whore. You’ll never amount to anything.
Crap. Crap.
“Daisy. Daisy,” he said more sharply. She looked up into his hazel eyes which were filled with concern. “That’s better. Where did you just go?”
“Nowhere.”
“All right. We need to get a few things straight. Thought I made things clear last night, seems I didn’t.” He was putting food on both plates and her stomach actually growled. It looked pretty good. Except for the spinach. Gross.
“Come on, grab some cutlery and let’s eat at the dining table and we can chat.”
“Do we have to chat?”