Page 26 of Eat Your Heart Out
I let out a giggle. I hadn’t meant to, and my nerves were high. I took a deep breath. “I wasn’t fishing for one.”
He stood and patted his stomach. “Let’s go get breakfast.”
Right. He ate all three meals. It was something I would have to get used to. Sometimes, I ate a toaster snack when we had a box of them at home, but at his mother’s, we’d had omelets cooked to order.
We walked into the dining room, and he ordered sun-dried tomatoes, spinach, feta, and parsley for his breakfast omelet.
I decided fast as I said, “The same.”
Zheng left.
When we were alone, I asked, ”Why did you start blogging about food?”
Gerard gazed at me. “I was doing it as a teenager in LA and Manhattan. We ate at all the trendiest places, where my pedar had these meetings, and I realized sometimes, the hottest places had the worst food but other ones had some of the best food. I didn’t want to embarrass my dad, but I really liked talking about my food.”
Zheng returned minutes later, and he had two plates. Gerard quickly thanked Zheng, who then left us alone. We ate a few bites, and I sipped a new cup of coffee.
His parents had taken him with them. My mother had, too, when I was young, and I had eaten the food no one wanted to eat. Mostly, though, I remembered that she worked three jobs and was always tired. Still, she somehow found time to be with me.
Once my plate was clear, I asked, “And your parents were okay with that?”
He nodded. “They’re pretty much supportive of every decision I make. If I went to them and told them I wanted to become… I don’t know… a wrestler, Maman would worry I’d get hurt, but she’d come to my matches.”
We finished our breakfast. He sipped a black tea.
“Did you want to be a wrestler?” I asked.
He smiled. “I was pretty good in high school, though I didn’t take it too seriously.”
I gazed up and down his beautiful body. “You are muscular.”
He laughed. “I keep in shape. What about you?”
I wrinkled my nose and met his gaze. “No. I wasn’t a wrestler.”
He scooted closer to me. My body tingled with awareness.
“I meant what did you enjoy?”
I wished my body wasn’t buzzing and aching for his touch. “Art class. Painting. It was fun to get lost in colors, but that doesn’t pay the bills.”
He finished his tea. “Yes it does. My mother supports plenty of artists.”
I finished my second cup of coffee. “That still sounds like working for someone.”
“You can’t enjoy what you do if you work for someone else?”
“I never thought about it that way. Work was always… hard.”
“Interesting.” He waved for us to go, so I stood and joined him.
We walked to the solarium on the top floor, where I’d spent the morning. It was bright outside, though we had the overhang for some shade and air-conditioning inside. The hot tub was on, but we went to one of the swings.
He reached into his back pocket and said, “Well, I wanted to give you something.”
I tensed, and my breathing became short. Gifts were too generous. I rocked. “You’re giving me a trip around the world. I don’t need anything.”
He took out a long jewelry box. “I like you, and I thought this would be a nice start to working together.”
