Twenty-four. God. I poured a lot of wine into my glass. A lot.
“I take it you’re a wine drinker?” he asked.
“Sometimes. I like whiskey too.” I set the bottle down and took the steak off the heat. “Go on and look around. This will be ready in a few minutes.”
He disappeared into the dining room, and I took a good, long drink.
Six
MAXIM
It was obvious Derek had good taste and took a lot of pride in his home. It wasn’t huge or overly luxurious, but it was beautiful and clean, and every single room had small touches that made it feel warm and welcoming. Like the kitchen, each room I saw could have been a Hollywood set.
The dining room walls were painted a soft blue-gray, and a shiny silver bowl full of white blooms rested on the long rectangular table. Beyond that was the living room, where thick white rugs covered the floor, and wide chairs and couches in neutral colors were arranged around a big ottoman. Lots of framed photographs stood on the white mantle over the room’s brick fireplace, and I walked over to look closer.
A picture of Derek and Ellen from their childhood made me smile. He looked about ten years old; she, maybe half his age. Another boy, a little shorter than Derek, stood between them, and I wondered if there was a third sibling. All three of them wore bathing suits and were smiling broadly, squinting into the sun. They were all missing at least one tooth.
There were more family pictures, taken at graduations and Christmases, and someone’s wedding—the other brother’s, perhaps? It looked like Derek might have been the best man. I wondered if Derek had ever been married, or if he had a girlfriend. He must. What guy at his age, who looked that good and was obviously kind, smart, and successful, would still be single?
“Food’s ready.”
At the sound of his voice, I turned. “I was just looking at your pictures. Can I ask you about them?”
“Of course.” He came into the room and stood next to me, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“You have a brother as well as a sister?”
“Yeah. David. He’s two years younger.” He pointed to the photo of them in formal dark suits. David was tall like Derek, but not quite as ruggedly handsome. “That was his wedding three years ago. He and his wife live in San Diego, and they have a six-month old son now, Gavin.”
“Is this him?” I gestured toward a photo of Derek cradling a baby in his arms.
“Yeah. That was at his baptism. I’m his godfather.” A note of pride crept into his voice, making me smile. “Anyway. Ready to eat?”
“Definitely.”
We went back to the kitchen, where Derek had set a place for me at the table, complete with placemat and a linen napkin, a steak knife on the right and a fork on the left. A glass of ice water was on the table for me, too. “This is like a five star restaurant,” I said as I sat down, placing the napkin on my lap. “I feel underdressed or something.”
“Nah. I just have a thing about paper napkins. I hate them.” He set a plate in front of me, and I could have wept, it looked so good—a perfectly seasoned seared steak and a fresh garden salad. Simple but perfect.
I dug in immediately.
Derek cleaned up the kitchen, then brought his wine to the table, taking the chair across from me. “Wow. You were hungry.”
I grinned sheepishly and cut a bite off the last remaining portion of steak. “My grandparents grew up in hard times, and they taught me to never leave the table until I finish everything on my plate, because you never know if you’re going to have a good meal tomorrow. But also—this is delicious.”
“Was the steak cooked okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Good. I guess I should have asked you how you like your meat.”
I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth for a second before recovering. Don’t be a pervert. He meant the steak. “I like it the way you did it,” I assured him. But I couldn’t look up from my plate, and I felt self-conscious as I chewed. Then I swallowed too soon and had to take a big drink of water to wash it down.
“This your first trip to the U.S.?” he asked me, crossing his arms over his chest.
“My second. I visited New York three years ago.”
“How long will you stay?”