Page 33 of Beautiful Trauma
Henry’s lips were pursed in thought, and a deep V furrowed in his brow. “Wait. Are you implying I don’t get a say in what happens between us?”
Sighing heavily, I scooped potatoes onto his plate. I was fucking this all up. “Of course not, Henry. You’re not my prisoner, and I’m not trying to control you. I would never try to suppress your free will. I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t be hurt if things go wrong, but it’s mycareeron the line.”
Henry’s shy smile returned. “You were born to boss people around, Ezra.”
“It’s a habit I picked up early in life,” I quipped, winking at him.
“I think bossing people around is a very close second place to your desire to take care of those you care about.”
Henry’s words hit very close to home, and I nearly dropped the serving spoon. I set the container of potatoes on the table and picked up the green beans. Those were traits I was able to hide or disguise with most people, but Henry saw to the very core of me. I felt a shimmer of hope.Just maybe…
“How do you even know I like green beans?” Henry asked, pulling me out of my fantasies. Our gazes met and held. My hand holding the scoop of beans hovered uncertainly over his plate. “I actually love them, and I smell a hint of bacon, so these will probably be the best green beans I’ve ever had, but it wouldn’t hurt you to ask me first instead of assuming I want them. I can also serve my own dinner.”
I handed the container of beans to him with the serving spoon. “Fair enough. I will try to do better when ordering dinner.”
Henry’s mouth fell open again, but he quickly regained his composure and dished beans onto his plate. “This is something you want to do again?”
“Very much, but we have to be careful.”
“Because I’m your student or for other reasons?” he pressed. There he went again with his keen instincts.
“Yes, because you’re my student.” There were a few other reasons, but I wasn’t ready to share my tumultuous past with him. I might not ever be prepared to slice myself open for him, and it was something he’d have to accept if we were going to have any kind of relationship.
“Fair enough,” Henry said, using my phrase against me. “That’s only going to be the case for another month.”
“So far,” I countered. “We might find ourselves in this situation again if I’m teaching a class you need for your degree.”
“We can cross that road if we come to it,” Henry said, sniffing the air appreciatively. “Do I smell bread?”
“Yes, how silly of me. Phillipe would never exclude his famous French sourdough bread. I also learned from his son that he included dessert for us to try.”
“The delivery boy is the chef’s son?” Henry asked. I detected something else in his voice. Was he questioning how close I was to Phillipe? I somehow felt comforted by the notion I wasn’t the only jealous one, but it also meant the potential for misunderstandings that could lead to explosive arguments if we weren’t open and honest.
“That’s what he said when he handed me the bag.” I repeated the story for Henry while I retrieved the mini loaves of bread and butter I’d left in the tote. “I don’t know how new the development is, but I’m guessing pretty recent. I’ve never seen the kid before, and his emotions looked shiny and new.”
“Wow,” Henry softly said when I set a mini loaf on his plate.
“The bread is delicious,” I said.
“Not that, although I’m sure it is. I was just wondering what it’s like for Phillipe to find out he has a grown son.” Henry sniffed the air and moaned. “Okay, the smell of this bread is making my stomach growl. I need you to sit down and serve yourself dinner so we can eat.”
Chuckling, I bent down and kissed the top of his head before taking my seat across from him. “You don’t have to wait for me, Henry. Dig in.”
“No way,” he said stubbornly.
“Was the Twix bar going to be your dinner tonight?” I asked with a raised brow.
“No, Ezra. I’ve truly learned from my mistakes. I had a hearty salad with seared steak and boiled eggs for added protein for lunch, but I must’ve burned it off. I just wanted the little kick of sugar to get me through your class.”
“But then I went and depleted your caloric reserves even more,” I said proudly.
“You don’t have to sound so smug.”
Satisfied I had everything I needed, I picked up my fork and pointed at Henry’s plate. “Eat.”
Henry didn’t argue; he picked up his fork and took a bite of his tenderloin. He moaned as flavor burst on his tongue. He moved to the potatoes then the beans before he sliced a piece of bread from his loaf and spread a thin layer of butter on top. “Stop staring at me and eat. I’m not the only one who needs protein for the after-talk activities. I assume you didn’t invite me over to clean your apartment or play Monopoly.”
“Definitely not.”