An American Cinderella

“What? How have you never had a grilled cheese?” I asked, astonished. “How did you survive as a child?”

He chuckled. “It was never served. I did love macaroni and cheese, though. And pickles.”

I giggled. “Then we are going to go pop your grilled cheese cherry,” I told him. “And they have a great mac and cheese if you hate the sandwich.”

“Do you like this place?” he asked, looking down at me with those blue eyes. Today they were the color of the sky just before nightfall. Dark and blue and beautiful.

“I do,” I told him. My favorite is called ‘The Young American.’ It’s cheese, tomato, and bacon on sourdough bread. Sometimes I have them add avocado and roasted red peppers, too. It’s delicious.”

“That sounds amazing,” he agreed. “I thought grilled cheese was supposed to be boring. That’s why it’s a kid food.”

“Traditionally, it’s just toasted white bread with melted cheese inside. Which is delicious, if a bit simple,” I agreed. “I actually really like all the extra ingredients. It feels decadent, but comforting at the same time. Like being home and still traveling.”

Henry grinned. “I like the combination. Let’s try it.”

He let me guide us down the street. The restaurant was only a few blocks away and I could practically get there blindfolded, I’d made the walk so many times.

I smiled back at him as we walked side by side down the street. My hand still rested on his arm and I could feel the flex of the muscles underneath as he moved.

“So where are you from that you didn’t have grilled cheese as a kid?” I asked, mostly to distract myself from his closeness.

“You don’t know?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I thought you might have guessed by now.”

“Jaqui thinks that you’re from Paradisa,” I told him. “I’ve never met anyone from there, so I don’t know what the accent sounds like exactly.”

“Jaqui is a good guesser,” he replied. “I am from Paradisa.”

The way his accent wrapped around his homeland made it sound rich and warm. There was love in the way he said where he was from.

“Are you just visiting? Or are you coming to stay in America?” I asked, pulling on his arm to have him cross the street with me.

“Just visiting,” he replied. He glanced at me as we resumed walking on the sidewalk, as if he was trying to figure me out.

“Business or pleasure?” I asked him, feeling like I was playing twenty questions, but I wanted to know more about him. He dropped my arm and stopped walking, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk. He just looked at me, his blue eyes unreadable. The wind ruffled the red-gold hair peeking out under his hat.

“What?” I asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head and smiled. “No. You’re perfect,” he told me. “I’m just not used to so many questions.”

“I can stop, if you want,” I replied, feeling a blush cross my face again. “My dad always said my curiosity would get the best of me.”

“No, it’s wonderful,” he replied, giving me a smile. “I’m here for business.”

“So, you’ll leave then?” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “You’ll be going home? How long are you staying?”

He looked over and gave me a cocky grin. “Why? You think you’ll miss me?”

I did my best to shrug. “I just met you. How could I miss you?”

The confident smirk didn’t leave his face. “I plan on staying here for at least a month. I might be able to stay longer. If the conditions were right.”

My heart did a little flip flop. I could try and make those conditions even better. I hadn’t known him for very long, but I certainly wanted to. I wanted to know him a lot longer.

I cleared my throat, feeling the blush settle on my cheeks. “The restaurant’s just over there,” I said, trying to keep from getting ahead of myself. I didn’t even know the guy’s full name. I couldn’t start planning our life together just yet.