I nod. “Yeah, I picked it up a while ago and got hooked on some of the food I made. I experimented a lot with fake meat and I got a bit obsessed with trying to perfect the perfect dish.”
“Is this your perfect dish?” he asks.
“Close enough. I once tried this amazing vegan couscous when I was visiting Anya in LA, but I haven’t been able to find all the ingredients over here. Also the measurements are all weird over there. How do you even measure a cup?It’s a nightmare because you have to translate everything into measurements you recognize before you can even begin to cook, and then all the recipes have the writer’s most recent marriage problem that you have to scroll through just to get to the good part.”
I look up from my food and see Jackson’s staring at me with a bemused look on his face. I feel my face flush. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“It’s okay, I like your rambling.”
I take a bite to distract myself from the look in his eye.
“Send me the restaurant in LA. I’ll have to go when I’m back Stateside.”
My heart flutters in my chest. Soon he’ll be back on the other side of the world. What are me and the baby going to do then?
Stop it,I tell myself.He might want nothing to do with either of you. At least then he’ll be far away.
“When do you go back?” I ask, taking another bite so I don’t blurt it out too soon.
“Shoot for six months and then I’ll probably head over. My family is back in Wellington, so it’s not like I’m heading back for them.”
“How often do you go to New Zealand?”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “When I can. It’s a long flight, but I miss home. They come over sometimes. My older sister loves coming to LA.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Two. One older and one younger.”
My smile grows. “So you’re the middle child”
“Yeah, but the only boy so I still get all the attention.” He grins.
“What about your parents?”
“My mum is the best.”
“And your dad?”
He shifts in his seat. “He died when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, wanting to reach across the table and grab his hand.
“It’s fine,” he brushes me off. “What about you? Where are your family?”
“Oh, uh. I’m the youngest of two and my parents live back in Wicklow. It’s near Gloucester.”
At Jackson’s blank look, I laugh and say, “North east of here.”
“Are you close?”
I stare at my hand as I grip my fork. “No, not really. I have a grandma that I’m really close with, but she was put into a home just after Christmas. I try to visit her every few weekends though, and we talk on the phone every Sunday.”
“I bet that makes her day.”
I laugh. “Yeah, the nurses said she waits by the phone for my call and doesn’t stop talking about me afterwards. The first time I visited, all the staff already knew me by name.”
I don’t tell him that I ring her so often because I don’t want her to forget me, because I want to have one member of my family who wants to spend time with me.
