Page 53
Story: Someone Like You
“Well, it all looks so delicious,” she remarked sleepily through a yawn.
“It is. I just want to make sure that you get something into your body before you fall asleep.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as she opened her mouth to take the first bite of the chicken.
“I was starting to worry about you.”
“Why?”
“It was getting late.”
“Mm. This is so moist and delicious,” Giselle complimented after she had finished the bite.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I went out with my friends to unwind. It’s been a challenging week.”
“Because of me?” I asked.
“Because of lots of things,” she replied and stared into my eyes. “My friends tell me that I’m wrong.”
“About?”
“You. They want me to leave and come stay with them.”
“What do you want?”
“To stay with you.”
“Then do that.”
“It’s too complicated. They reminded me of the same things I’m afraid of—losing my license and being a rebound.”
“You’re nobody’s rebound, baby.”
“I don’t know, Cas.”
“I don’t want to create problems for you, Giselle.”
She sighed and toyed with her food for a moment before she replied, “You’re not. I just need to get my head together.”
“Regarding you and me?”
“Casimir, there can be no you and me.”
“Eat your meal,” I ordered.
She frowned but did as I suggested. When she finished, I gathered our plates and took them into the kitchen, and Giselle followed me.
“Where did you learn to cook?” Giselle asked through a yawn as I rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher. She sat on the counter beside the kitchen sink and swung her legs as she watched me.
“My mother. She was a military wife, and as the wife of a high-ranking officer, she often held dinner parties for my dad.”
“And you would hang out in the kitchen with her?” Giselle asked as I grabbed a dish towel and wiped down the countertops.
“Yeah. Asking different questions, making suggestions and things like that. She’d let me try whatever I suggested, even if she knew it wasn’t a good idea. She always told me that experience was the best teacher. That was how I learned what spices mixed well and which ones didn’t.”
“That was very sweet and patient of her. I don’t know that I would have had that same patience to let you mess up dish after dish or have to throw all that food away.”
“It is. I just want to make sure that you get something into your body before you fall asleep.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as she opened her mouth to take the first bite of the chicken.
“I was starting to worry about you.”
“Why?”
“It was getting late.”
“Mm. This is so moist and delicious,” Giselle complimented after she had finished the bite.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I went out with my friends to unwind. It’s been a challenging week.”
“Because of me?” I asked.
“Because of lots of things,” she replied and stared into my eyes. “My friends tell me that I’m wrong.”
“About?”
“You. They want me to leave and come stay with them.”
“What do you want?”
“To stay with you.”
“Then do that.”
“It’s too complicated. They reminded me of the same things I’m afraid of—losing my license and being a rebound.”
“You’re nobody’s rebound, baby.”
“I don’t know, Cas.”
“I don’t want to create problems for you, Giselle.”
She sighed and toyed with her food for a moment before she replied, “You’re not. I just need to get my head together.”
“Regarding you and me?”
“Casimir, there can be no you and me.”
“Eat your meal,” I ordered.
She frowned but did as I suggested. When she finished, I gathered our plates and took them into the kitchen, and Giselle followed me.
“Where did you learn to cook?” Giselle asked through a yawn as I rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher. She sat on the counter beside the kitchen sink and swung her legs as she watched me.
“My mother. She was a military wife, and as the wife of a high-ranking officer, she often held dinner parties for my dad.”
“And you would hang out in the kitchen with her?” Giselle asked as I grabbed a dish towel and wiped down the countertops.
“Yeah. Asking different questions, making suggestions and things like that. She’d let me try whatever I suggested, even if she knew it wasn’t a good idea. She always told me that experience was the best teacher. That was how I learned what spices mixed well and which ones didn’t.”
“That was very sweet and patient of her. I don’t know that I would have had that same patience to let you mess up dish after dish or have to throw all that food away.”
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