Her eyes softened slightly. “Are you not usually happy?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t been happy in a long time…” The last five years of my life were a terrible blur I wanted to forget. Derek was the only aspect that gave me any kind of joy, happy moments in a sea of depression.
Instead of telling me I should be grateful for everything I had, she seemed to understand it. “I read an article that said the more intelligent you are, the more likely you are to suffer from depression and sadness. And the less intelligent you are…the happier you are. Ignorance is bliss, I guess.”
I nodded. “I don’t get any stimulation out of social relationships, and since that’s the key to happiness, that’s always a deficit. The one exception to that is Derek, but he’s not here, so…” I didn’t mean to bring down the conversation with my typical somber self-reflection.
“You seem to get along with Tucker pretty well.”
“Yeah, for the most part.”
She drank from her wine.
“But I connect with you the best.” There was no one else I could sit at this table with, have this conversation with. She made time speed up and slow down at the same time.
She gave me a smile. “I connect with you too, Deacon.”
I held her gaze, my fingertips resting on the stem of my glass. If I hadn’t met her, I’d be at home right now, sitting alone at my dining table and staring at my laptop. But now, I was out in the real world…with a real person. It was completely unlike me, but it felt right.
“Okay, that was the best steak I’ve ever had.” She ate all of it, so there was nothing to take home.
I chuckled, the second glass of wine making me a little loose. “It was good.”
“Good? I ate the whole thing.” She stared at her empty plate. “I’m skipping breakfast tomorrow.”
“I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
“I noticed that. Why is that?”
“Biologically, it doesn’t make sense to eat breakfast. We’ve been hunters for thousands of years. We’d wake up, spend all day hunting for food, and then eat. Eating three meals a day…there’s no scientific evidence for that.”
“So, you only eat twice every day?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s called intermittent fasting. It’s not a new idea. Monks have been doing it for thousands of years. The idea is to let your body fast for sixteen hours every day, allowing your system to utilize fat as a fuel resource rather than carbohydrates or sugars.”
“How long have you been doing that?”
“Ten years.”
“Well, I guess it makes sense why your body is so…” She cleared her throat. “Why you’re in such good shape.”
I had six percent body fat and a considerable mass of lean muscle. I was in optimal health, and I intended to keep it that way as long as I lived. It was easy for me since I didn’t have a social life. I preferred to eat alone at home.
“When do you work out?”
“In the morning. I wake up early.”
She nodded. “I never work out. Just don’t have time. But honestly, even if I did, I still wouldn’t.” She let out a chuckle.
“You’re on your feet all day long. That’s sufficient exercise. I’m usually at my desk in the office, or I’m standing still in the lab. I need to do cardiovascular exercise every day. And it’s obvious your diet is working.” Based on her appearance and the way she felt against my hands, she was a slender woman with no fat, having a hard body underneath her clothes. Her ass was plump because she walked everywhere she went, taking flights of stairs in all the residences. She probably did twenty thousand steps minimum every single day.
“Well…thank you.”
Tess returned to the table. “Wow, you must have enjoyed your dinner because you ate it all.”
Cleo looked slightly embarrassed. “Yes…it was delicious.”
She grabbed the plates. “Any dessert? We have a great ice cream sundae.”
Cleo shook her head. “As amazing as that sounds—”
“We’ll take one.” I now knew Cleo liked sweets, and she never got to enjoy them because she had no time. This dinner was about her, and I wanted her to have what she wanted. I just wished the waitress hadn’t made that comment that embarrassed her, because there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
“You got it.” She walked away.
Cleo smiled slightly. “You didn’t have to do that—”
“I’m wondering if this will be the best sundae you’ve ever had.”
Her smile widened and she laughed. “I’ve never heard you make a joke before.”
“It happens.”
She held her glass as she stared at me, her smile wide and her eyes bright.
I stared back, loving the way she looked in that moment, like she was happy just to be there with me, like she enjoyed my company instead of dreaded it. She looked at me in a way other people didn’t, as if she liked me for me, not my brilliance or my wallet.