That was a good question. “Not sure.”
 
 He looked pleased. “Maybe you’re starting to like me.”
 
 “I doubt it.” I squashed my smile.
 
 “I’m pretty amazing.”
 
 I snorted. “Well, I know you think you are.”
 
 He grinned. “You’re so mean.”
 
 I laughed, feeling lighthearted. “Somebody needs to help keep that humongous ego of yours in check.”
 
 “I’m not really an egomaniac. It’s an act. I’m overcompensating for low self-esteem.”
 
 I couldn’t help but laugh again, and he beamed.
 
 “That’s a good one,” I smirked.
 
 “I’m so misunderstood.”
 
 “Uh-huh.”
 
 He looked around the kitchen. “It’s strange how quiet the house seemed when I got home. I was so used to living alone, the silence never bothered me before. But tonight, the house felt kind of empty without Emily sitting in the front room, doing homework.”
 
 “She’d love to hear that.”
 
 He grimaced. “I’d be too embarrassed to say that to her.”
 
 “Why? I thought you were all about communicating?”
 
 “Volunteering my feelings is still hard.” He took another big bite.
 
 “I get that.”
 
 He laughed. “I’ll bet you do.”
 
 I scowled. “Meaning what?”
 
 “Just that you’re the most private person I’ve ever met.” He shrugged. “But I guess after what you’ve been through, that makes sense.”
 
 I flicked my gaze to him. “What?”
 
 He froze and his cheeks seemed pink. “What?”
 
 “What would you know about what I’ve… gone through?” I narrowed my eyes. I’d pretty much made a point of not sharing my sad story with him.
 
 “Oh, just stuff you’ve alluded to.”
 
 “Well, I don’t need your sympathy.”
 
 “I know.”
 
 I took a bite, not tasting anything. He seemed uptight and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. We ate in silence for a while, and then he set his fork down.
 
 “But you know, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you did share stuff.” His mouth was a disgruntled line.
 
 “With you?”