I dispensed some syrup onto the vacancy created by the piece of waffle I’d taken from the plate and ran my lukewarm waffle through it.
LL is typing…
I leaned forward, chewing the waffle slowly, each movement of my jaw building the anticipation of his response. I apparently needed to get some things off my chest, and this guy was just the victim of my oversharing, but when I saw how short his response was, I briefly deflated.
Until I read it, and the message that followed.
LL
I wrote an entire novel for you, but I think I have a better idea.
Below that was a phone number.
I yanked the pen up, wrote it down on a napkin, and stuffed it into my pocket, along with a wad of napkins.
After dropping a twenty on the table—cash on hand from tips was a huge perk of working as a valet and barista—I hurried back to my truck with all of my things—and one thing that wasn’t. Then I drove as quickly as possible to the nearest pier, where I made my way to the end of the wooden boards. I kicked my shoes off first, then eased myself down and let my bare feet hang over the lapping water.
Then even as somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered what the hell I was doing, I called the number.
“Good morning, Dezi,” a sweet but decidedly masculine voice answered.
“LL?” I asked, my own deep voice a nice contrast to his.
He laughed, and that was even sweeter. “Yes. But you can call me Liem too. I like both.”
I took in a deep breath of Gulf air and leaned my head against the wooden beam beside me.
“Are you sure you have the time? I’ve messed up this assignment pretty badly, LL, and I’ve tried so many times already.”
He hummed. “I do, Dezi.”
I took another deep breath, and silence grew between us, but I got the feeling it was more of LL being in no particular hurry, especially after how easily he’d just assured me of that.
“Why theMona Lisa?”
The sudden question caught me off guard, and before I could think of some witty reply, the truth fell from me. "She reminds me of Bree."
"Ahh. Loved ones do that for us, don’t they? My brother once made me a pancake that looked just like my dad. I couldn’t even eat it.”
“That’s tragic.”
He laughed. “It could have been, but my brother just made waffles instead, and it somehow stuck. We’re a waffle family now.” There was a pause, and then he said, “I’ve quite got waffles on the mind now.”
Adorable.
It’d been a long time since I’d thought that about anything—or anyone.
“Do you have anything to draw with and on?”
“Umm.” My neck heated as I thought of the crumpled napkins I’d intended to use. “Yes.”
LL’s answering laugh was airy and so sweet, it could almost be called a giggle. “I’m sure whatever you have will work well for us.”
I huffed even as I fought a smile. “I did have paper before, but as it’s currently filling the trash can in my apartment, I figure I can’t do much worse.”
He hummed again. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that, but perhaps you’ll allow me to talk you through it regardless?”
And he did. He really did.
