Frankie had the feeling she was missing something.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is great. This omelet is fantastic. I didn’t realize you were such a great cook.”
“Food always tastes better when you’re not the one who cooked it.”
“You’re not eating?”
“I ate some cheese earlier while I started a new book. Reading food.”
He stuck his fork into the salad. “Reading food?”
“Food you can eat while you’re reading. Food that doesn’t require any attention. Can be eaten one-handed while I turn the pages with the other. You don’t know about reading food?”
“It’s a gap in my education.” There was a tiny smile on his lips. “So what else qualifies as reading food?”
She sat down and puffed her hair out of her eyes. “Popcorn, obviously. Chocolate, providing you break it into chunks before you settle down. Chips. Grilled cheese sandwiches if you cut them into bite-size pieces.”
He reached across the table and picked up the book she’d been reading. “The latest Lucas Blade? I thought this wasn’t out for another month.”
“Early copy. Turns out Eva’s favorite client is his grandmother, and I get to be the one who benefits from that friendship.”
“Well, now I understand why you need to eat while you read. I’ll borrow it when you’re done with it. I love his work. So that’s what you were doing when I knocked? You were sitting here reading?”
Frankie nodded. “I’m halfway through chapter three. Gripping.”
He put the book back on the table carefully. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, although I haven’t guessed the twist yet if that’s what you want to know.”
“It isn’t.” He’d finished his food and put his fork down. There was a pause. Her heart started to thud a little harder.
He looked serious, but surely if something was wrong he would have said so right away.
“What do you want to ask me?”
He pushed his plate away and lifted his gaze to hers. “How long have you worn glasses you don’t need?”
Oh, God.
Had he really just said what she’d thought he’d said?
What was she going to say? She looked at him stupidly. “Excuse me?”
“When I knocked on the door you were reading, but I saw your glasses on the stand in the entryway so you can’t be long-sighted. Of course you could be short-sighted, but you read the title of that book perfectly just now. Which leads me to believe you’re neither.” His tone was neutral. “You don’t need them, do you?”
Flustered, she lifted her hand to her face.
Her glasses. She’d forgotten to wear her glasses.
She remembered taking them off when she’d walked through the door. She hadn’t put them back on because she hadn’t been expecting company.
“I need them.” What should she do? She could squint and trip over a chair, but it was a bit late for that. “It’s complicated.” Lame, Frankie. Lame.
“I’m sure it is.” Matt’s tone was gentle. “But the reason you need them has nothing to do with your vision, does it?”
He knew.