“Are you going to eat that piece of bread?”
“Yes!” she said, her hand hovering protectively over her slice of bread.
“Oh, you’re diabolical.”
“It’s the ponytail. Gives me that adorable, wicked vibe.”
“Oh, okay. It’s all right if you eat it. I’ve spent all day shivering in a hospital room, with nothing to eat or drink but the chemical crap from the vending machine that doesn’t take fives, worrying sick about my dad. But if you need that last slice of bread and it’s more important to you than my comfort, go right ahead.”
Britt took a huge bite of her buttery slice.
“Yum!” she said. “Soooo good!”
“You’re vicious. Taunting me with that bread.”
“Oh, fine, one bite but do NOT eat it all!” she laughed, holding out her bread to him.
Jack took an enormous bite and grinned. They finished their meal in harmonious silence, looking up at each other and locking eyes and smiling. It made her buoyantly happy just to be with him, sitting near him. He looked less droopy, more resilient already. She felt good that she could help him and improve his spirits by showing up and acting goofy and bringing him food. It was like the best accomplishment of her entire day.
“I love you,” she said, smiling at him.
He sipped the soda. “I love you back. Even though you selfishly denied me bread.”
“You ATE it. I offered you a bite and you just ate it.”
“I have manly appetites.”
She winked. “I know you do.”
“You are amazing for my ego. Meat AND flattery!”
“Right. Look, you’re gorgeous, you’re talented, and you’re even so incredibly charming you can get away with stealing my crusty bread.”
“It’s nice to be appreciated,” he said.
Jack stood and rounded the table, leaned down and touched her face gently. He dipped his head and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to her lips that left her weak in the knees.
“How long is your dad’s surgery supposed to last?” she softly asked.
“Another hour or so.”
“He’s in my thoughts and prayers.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
He looked off and Britt could tell how worried he was. When she tried to comfort him, he changed the subject.
“Please tell me you brought desert,” he said.
Britt pried the lid off the container and removed a plastic spoon from its cellophane sleeve with a flourish.
“Grand Marnier soufflé,” she pronounced, displaying the pretty golden dessert for his approval.
The faint waft of orange suffused the air and Britt dipped the spoon into the soft custard, offering him a bite.
“Mmmm,” he said. “Why can’t I have the spoon?”
“You’ll eat it ALL before I have a single taste,” she said.