Dishing Up Love

I situate us to where she’s standing in front of me, and I wrap my arms around her middle, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Whatever you think is broken about yourself, I’ll spend a lifetime helping you fix. And if there are parts of you that can’t be repaired, I’d be willing to bet the jagged edges and gaps fit together with mine just right. Our jigsaw pieces could make a beautiful picture, as long as we’re together.”

She doesn’t say anything then. Just leans back against me, giving me most of her weight as she relaxes into my front. And I think to myself, Well, that’s a start, as she doesn’t make any joke to blow off my words.

Chapter 11

Erin

WHEN THE TOUR ends back where we started at the beginning of the night, it feels like a decade has passed since I stood outside this building, not just two hours. I feel like a different person, as if some of the weight I’ve been carrying around for the last several years has fallen off my shoulders. Those fortified walls around me don’t feel quite as suffocating as I’ve allowed Curtis to chip windows into their stone, giving him a peek inside. And the more we talk and touch and kiss—oh God, his kisses—he’s turning those windows into full-on doorways, passages into my heart.

“How about those beignets I promised you?” I suggest, feeling much different than I did passing the outdoor café on the way here. Before, I wanted to end the night as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to give him the chance to wiggle his way beneath my skin, making it hard to get rid of him later.

But now… now, I never want this night to end. I want this night to last forever. Because as long as I never fall asleep, I won’t have to wake up alone as I always do. I won’t have to wake up and realize this was all a dream. I won’t have to gain consciousness to the fact that everything I’m feeling with Curtis was nothing but a fantasy I conjured through a potent mix of adrenaline and alcohol.

Without thinking, I say out loud, “In order to make sure this night lasts as long as I can make it, I need coffee. Coffee with chicory to be exact, with a shitload of lait and sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. Sugar in my coffee, and sugar piled a mile high on my beignets. Sugar, sugar, sugar…” I chant as if it’s a voodoo spell that will conjure the energy-boosting substances right before my eyes, not stopping until Curtis’s arm halts my hurried pace. I hadn’t even realized I was moving, and my hand goes to my startled heart when I see I nearly ran into one of the poles holding up the green canopy of Café du Monde.

My wide eyes lift to the sexy chef, his expression a little worried through his smile.

“You all right, sugar?” he asks.

“Uhhh… yeah. Yes,” I state more firmly. “Sorry. I think I just need some coffee.”

“I got that. As you said it about fourteen times between the tour place and here.” He chuckles.

My face warms a little. “It’s been an exciting day.” At a little after one in the morning, the line for a table is minimal and we grab two seats within seconds. “The menu is tiny, but it’s right there on the napkin holder. One side is the souvenir list and the other is the actual beignets and beverages available. But I suggest just sticking to the classics. An order of beignets and coffee. The café au lait is the best though.”

“I am not too proud to let my woman order for me. You go ahead.” He gestures to the young Asian man headed our way, his white paper hat sitting squarely atop his head, notepad in hand.

“What can I get you?” he asks, reaching behind him to grab a rag to wipe off the powdered sugar covering the top of the table.

“We’d like one order of beignets, two café au laits for here, and two to go, please,” I reply, and he disappears into the building that houses the kitchen of the bakery. “When it comes, the coffee will be hot as fuck, so it’s better to order your refill ahead of time so it can be cooling off.”

“Noted,” Curtis says with a smile. “So, while it’s still fresh in my mind, I’d love to hear a psychologist’s take on the last story of the tour.”

I quirk my head. “That’s a little dark for donut conversation, isn’t it?”

He shrugs. “I just find all of it fascinating. And I find you fascinating. So lay it on me.”

“You’ve already made me display all sorts of affection in public tonight, Chef. And I’ve totally decided to lay it on you… just not right here in the middle of the most famous bakery in the world,” I admit, giving him a wicked look, and I love the expression on his face when he realizes what I just told him.