“This is quite the spread,” I add, glancing at the cart full of food. There are two enormous burgers the size of my face. Two plates of fries. A salad. Mushrooms doused in butter. Jerusalem artichokes with aioli. Crème brûlée. Mince pies. And chocolate cake. “It’s a lot.”
He smiles, licking his fingers. We’re laid out in bed, clad in white robes, both fresh from having showered. Well, we’d gotten distracted in the shower for a bit, but a shower did happen. It’s nearly four, and there’s been no mention of seeing the sights before we have to meet Hayes outside of the Offering. My stomach twists when I think about it—about what it will entail. But for now, I’m trying to enjoy the moment. And that means watching Benedict finish the entire burger.
“Wow,” I mumble, smiling. “You can really pack it away.”
He smirks. “I used up a lot of energy before. I needed to refuel.”
Something hungry and ferocious snakes through me at his words.
“What’s your favorite food? I know you so well, and yet I don’t know anything basic about you.”
His eyes are bright as he answers. “My mother’s beef bourguignon.” He smacks his lips and closes his eyes. “I’ve tried recreating it, but it’s never quite right.”
“I remember eating that with Lily when we lived in Paris together,” I muse. “It’s delicious.”
His eyes open. “What about you?” I open my mouth to answer, but he interjects. “Don’t say marshmallows.”
I laugh, swatting his arm. “Ha ha. No. Boxed Macaroni and Cheese. The cheap kind you can’t get here.” I look over at him and expect him to make a face, but he doesn’t—he listens. A small, sad smile tugs at his lips. I continue. “We were poor growing up. Unlike Lily, who grew up with wealth, we struggled to make ends meet. And by we, I mean… me. I worked from the age of twelve—babysitting at first to help with bills, and then at fourteen with my first real job. I had to lie about my age for that one. Despite the issues I had with my parents—despite my mom’s drug problems, and my dad showing up randomly… I have a lot of fond memories of Lily and me. The macaroni was the first thing I ever learned to make by myself. I’d make five boxes and live off of it for days. For a dollar, I could eat nearly ten meals.” I bite my lower lip and shake my head, shrugging. “It’s probably sad, but—”
He places a finger on my lips. “It’s not sad. I find it admirable. Such a strong person rose from the ashes of her life. Not only that, but you overcame worse things in Paris.” His voice is somber, and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he’s smiling. “You’re like a phoenix.” He tilts his head. “Life knocked the spark out of you so many times, and you keep rising as the whole fucking fire.”
His words cause a shiver to go down my spine, and I slowly release a deep breath. “Thanks.”
He smiles, brushing my wet hair off my neck. “Favorite color?”
I twist my mouth to the side. “Black.”
He chuckles. “I could’ve guessed that.”
“And not for the reason you probably think. Black is an amalgamation ofallcolors. I’m so indecisive, I have to choose the color that represents all of them,” I add, laughing with him. “What’s yours?”
His eyes flick to my hair so briefly, that if I hadn’t heard the word in my head before he said it, I wouldn’t have noticed.
“Red.”
A blush forms on my cheeks. “Birthday?”
“October 31st.”
I sit upright. “That’s next week!”
He chuckles. “So it is.”
“We should do something,” I announce. He stares at his hands for a second too long—and I notice. “Right?”
He looks up at me, tight-lipped, and nods. “Sure.” I’m about to ask him why he sounds so sad when he turns the question around. “When is yours?”
“March 29th.” Suddenly, realization dawns on me. “Wait, if you’re birthday is on Halloween, and Lily and Salem share a November birthday, that means I’m surrounded by Scorpios.”
“There it is,” he chuckles, pulling me into him. “The weird thing.”
I laugh. “What weird thing?”
“There comes a point when you’re dating someone and then they say something, and it makes you second guess everything,” he jokes.
I shove away from him and smile. “Because I said you were a Scorpio?”
He looks at me with dark eyes—his hair falling in front of his face. “You really believe in that kind of stuff?”
