Page 17 of With Us

The last of the tension disappeared as he smiled warmly at me. “No, not blood ones. My parents wanted a big family, but it never happened. Then I became a teenager, and I think they were giving thanks it was only me. I have Luc and his sister, plus more than enough cousins, so it was like having a bunch of siblings. Too many, usually. What about you?”

I shook my head. “Are your parents local?”

“Yeah, they live right outside the city. What about yours?”

“They both passed away when I was little.”

Theo set his drink down and leaned closer, but he didn’t touch me. “I’m sorry.”

“I never knew them, so it isn’t really as bad as it could’ve been. My maternal grandma raised me until I was four, but then her breast cancer returned, and she wasn’t able to continue.”

“What happened then?”

“I went into foster care. Which, with all those ‘siblings’ throughout the years, I definitely know how all your cousins could feel like too many.”

Just like I’d worked to keep my voice normal as we’d discussed his work, Theo did the same when talking about my childhood.

It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the sympathy from people, it just wasn’t needed. It was hard to explain to people that I couldn’t mourn parents I never knew. I’d end up feeling heartless because I wasn’t sad.

Foster homes weren’t always the best, but mine were far from the worst. I had a better childhood than a lot of the kids that’d left to return to their parents, that’s for sure.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, changing the subject not because I needed to, but because there wasn’t much more to say. At his raised brow, I shrugged. “What? First date question time.”

He grinned. “Teal. You?”

“Hot pink. Favorite food?”

He answered by holding up his fork, a piece of steak speared on it. “You?”

Using my fork, I lifted the cheese I’d pulled off the gratin potatoes. “Cheese. Any and all.”

“Ahh, I thought maybe you didn’t like it. I was trying to figure out how to distract you so I could swipe it.”

“No, I save it for last. And had you tried to take it, you may have gotten a fork to the hand. Foster care teaches you to be fast and possessive of your food.” I popped the cheese in my mouth. “Music?”

“Anything, really.” When I opened my mouth, he rushed on. “Except pop. It’s not my thing.”

“Same. Age?”

“Thirty-five. You?”

He was a couple years older than I’d expected, but not much.

“Twenty-three,” I answered, watching his reaction. It was a wasted effort because there was none. “Movie preference?”

“Any.”

“Does that include sappy romances?” I teased.

“Hey, I’ve seen The Notebook. Whenever it is on TV, I get sucked in. And, yes, I get a little choked up atthatpart every time.”

I grinned and shook my head. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Never?” Theo asked.

“I only watch subtitled foreign films set in the 1930s or before. There’s a showing next week of a French film from 1884 about a baguette delivery. It’s a bit bougie, but we should go.” After enjoying the horrified and panicked expression he was trying to suppress for a few moments, I let him off the hook. “I’m kidding.”

His shoulders slumped in relief. “I’d have gone, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not happy I don’t have to.”

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