Page 69 of Dirty Hearts

“Okay. At least let me cook. This is my fault.”

“It’s not. It’s mine. I was the one who wanted to make love to you in here, in the moonlight.” I was crazy for her.

She cupped my face and smoothed her hand across my beard, which I knew needed a trim. Her smile was infectious.

“Make love in the moonlight,” she breathed with an air of reminiscence in her voice.

“Make love in the moonlight,” I repeated. “And we’ll both cook.”

“Uh uh. I’m the boss of the kitchen.” She smiled.

I leaned forward and kissed her.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

* * *

Ava made a meal fit for God himself and all his heavenly host.

I didn’t even know how she found some of the ingredients she’d found. My maid, Donna, had done the weekly shopping on Wednesday, but I was certain it was just basics because I was a grab-and-go kind of guy.

Ava made pan fried chicken and beef stir-fry with spring vegetables. For dessert she made a peach cobbler with this sweet creamy sauce.

Everyone enjoyed it, even Raphael, who was normally fussy with everything.

I’d sat next to Luc around the table. Raphael sat in my lap the whole time, playing with my hair and trying to guess what the tattoos on my arm were. I wore a tank top, and the little guy had taken to his usual fascination with me. I had more tattoos than Luc.

Our dolls sat at the opposite end of the table talking it up. Pa was in the kitchen getting more drinks.

I watched Ava with Amelia, and it was interesting to see the two hit it off, off the bat. The women Luc and I were normally into had never done that. Talked to each other. Perhaps that was mostly my fault. After Marissa, I was never with anyone I would class as a girlfriend, and definitely not anyone I would bring to my house.

At least Luc and Pa would know the significance of me having Ava here, let alone asking her to stay for dinner.

Ava and Amelia had gone from talking about some recipe for lasagna to coconut oil.

“I use it in everything.” Ava smiled, nodding, and the ends of her blonde ponytail bobbled. “Trust me, it’s the secret to giving any recipe a kick. Something about the type of oils coconuts produce.”

“Really? I have the water after a long class.” Amelia straightened in her chair. Of course, she was talking about ballet.

I definitely didn’t care much for ballet or any form of dance. I hated anything like that, but she made it sound interesting. I’d never tell her that though. Then she’d think that was an invite to bore me to death with talk on choreography. The way she did with Luc and Maurice. Amelia had basically become my annoying little sister, the kind who could instill annoyance, but you loved them like family.

It was nice watching them. Her talking to Ava and making her feel welcome, despite the intro they’d had. And the two really did look like dolls.

I caught Luc looking at me. Cutting me a sideways stare.

I looked to him just as Raphael started wrapping the ends of my hair into some bun.

“What?” I asked.

The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown. “You know what.” He spoke in a low, even tone, keeping the conversation between us. Although I doubted the dolls would have been able to hear us above their chatter.

“I don’t.” That was a lie. I knew what he was talking about. He’d been watching me watching them, and I was pretty certain he was thinking the same thing as me.

“Liar. Just admit it. It’s nice to have them.” He returned his gaze to Amelia.

I think that I was always a little jealous of the love Luc had with Amelia because it was the kind most people fantasized about, while others like myself thought it was exceptional and believing love like theirs was for everyone was bullshit.

Most of all, it reminded me of the way I’d been with Ava when we met ten years ago. It reminded me of what I’d had and lost.