“No. There were a few instances when I tried it, but it didn’t work out, so I gave up, and when I made enough money, I started to shop around.”
He tears his gaze away from me, guarded.
“That’s all. There’s not much else to talk about,” I say curtly, grabbing a couple of plates and rising to my feet.
He pushes his chair back and collects the rest of them.
“I’ll do it,” I say as I load the dishwasher.
He pivots away and opens the oven and then the refrigerator, searching.
“It’s in the box,” I say, motioning to the fridge.
He gives me a glance, a smile playing on his lips.
“It’s right there,” I say, pointing to a shelf. “There’s a chocolate cake in that box. Isn’t that what you are looking for?”
“Yes. How do you know?”
“You’re always looking for sweets.”
He pulls the box out as I grab a couple of dessert plates and slide them onto the table.
“I’ll do this,” he says.
He fumbles through the utensils in the drawer and pulls out a thin-bladed knife and a triangle-shaped cake spatula. He runs the knife under hot water.
“You’re serious about this business,” I say, smiling softly.
“I’m good with cakes.”
“And kids,” I say. And, um...”
Grinning, he sways his head from side to side, his eyes on the cake.
“No, no... I’m afraid that’s not true,” he says.
“What?”
He looks at me.
“I’m not good with women.”
Without elaborating, he moves his eyes back to the cake.
A slice of moist, dark, chocolate-glazed cake slides onto the plate. He hands it to me before cutting another slice for himself.
He licks his fingers, now sprinkled with crumbs, and my eyes fall to his lips.
That’s how I see his smile.
“Let’s take a seat.”
“Okay,” I mumble.
I grab my plate, set it in front of me, and sink into a chair.
We eat in silence.