Simon shot me a mischievous smirk. I would have followed him to the ends of the Earth, or at least to Australia.
“Why cooking?”
I waved my hand over the dancing flame. The Bistro on Maine was pitch black except for a single candle in themiddle of the table. When I went to flip on the lights, he caught my hand, saying he had something more romantic in mind. He claimed the vanilla scent would open my senses to his culinary masterpiece. I called hogwash, but it wasstillromantic.
“Cooking is an experience. I don’t know how, but I’m good at it. So why not share my gift with the world?”
“That’s why you do itnow. Why did you do it at thebeginning?”
He pushed the swinging door open, the light flooding the dining room. In the silhouette, I couldn’t see his face, but I expected him to shoot me some over-the-top tale.
“Honestly, I’m not sure.”
He ducked back into the kitchen, the door swinging back and forth. I hadn’t expected confusion. He struck me as a man who did everything with purpose. I appreciated the honesty. Simon continued to teach me that not all of us have an origin story at a young age.
“When I was a kid, I had difficulty connecting with people.”
I smiled as I picked up the candle, swirling the warm wax around the edges. It made sense. Now, I understood his approach with Lucas. Their challenges with other kids might be different, but it sounded as if he channeled that into his role as a dad. With each additional layer revealed, I found myself more fascinated.
“You’re going to need to explain.”
There was a silence other than metal smacking against metal in the kitchen. My stomach rumbled as I imaginedwhat delicacies he had prepared. Right now, I’d be happy with a granola bar. That’s when I knew I was ravenous.
“I was popular, I guess. I had a big group of friends, but they weren’t people I’d talk to unless it revolved around school. Though, I didn’t have an Amanda.” I didn’t dare tell him that Amanda knew about the office. “Then my grandmother made a meal, and I realized it tasted… odd. She had been angry all day about a fight with a neighbor. Without saying a word, I could taste it. When she cooked for just me, she always went the extra mile, and there was love in every bite.”
Imagining him at a table, swinging his feet while he waited for food, might very well be the cutest thing ever.
“I didn’t always have the words, but I didn’t need them when I cooked. I spoke with food. And when you see that look of satisfaction, it says more than a simple ‘good job.’”
“If you get any cuter, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m threatening your zipper.”
The door opened and Simon stood there, knife raised in the air. It could very well have been a scene from a horror movie. There’d be shrill music, and then he’d chase me onto the green. I was too hungry for running. Just kill me and get it over with.
Simon set a plate in front of me. At first, I thought it was a good ol’ fashioned sandwich. When he rested the knife down the middle, I could hear it scrape the crust. Just before cutting, he changed the angle of the blade. “Diagonals show you care.”
He cut the sandwich, and the cheesy goodness hit my nostrils. My stomach growled in reply, demanding I shove it in my face hole. With a flick of the blade, the sandwich split apart, and the gooey goodness spread across the plate.
“Grandma’s grilled cheese.”
“In these here parts, we called it a ‘toasted cheese.’”
“Grandma would raise from the grave and slap that abomination out of your mouth.”
I snickered.
“Sorry, it’s nothing fancy. The deliveries come in tomorrow.” It might not be fancy for him, but it didn’t diminish my respect for the chef. The diagonal cut only made it more endearing. I didn’t need to have a bite to know it’d taste delicious.
“Is being a chef like in the reality shows?”
His head bobbed back and forth as he mulled over the answer. I couldn’t see him shouting at the staff for every minor infraction. Would he throw the plate across the kitchen for undercooked meat?
“Let’s say I’m happy to be out of a five-star restaurant. The food might have been amazing, but the stress…” He trailed off as he stared at the flame. “I didn’t like being that man. I didn’t like that I couldbethat man. A small kitchen and slower pace is better for my mental health.”
“Would you consider hiring people to help in the back?”
