Chapter Sixty-Three

Setting the food on the kitchen island, we both sat down in view of the television, eating Italian dishes from the local restaurant down the street.

“How’d you know I liked fettuccini?” I asked after chewing a mouthful. It was creamy and delicious, the garlic a perfect amount to not overpower the other flavors.

“Women always like fettuccini,” he murmured, digging into his plate of lasagna.

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Says who?”

“Every female I’ve ever met.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not my favorite Italian food,” I sighed dramatically.

“It’s better than egg salad, though, right?” he teased.

I nudged his arm with my elbow, and he curled his lips into a smile. He always made fun of my egg salad sandwiches. ‘They’re high in protein, okay? Keeps me full longer.”

“So is my salty semen.”

I nearly spit out my food, and he laughed at my reaction.

He was so fun when it was just the two of us. You’d never know how quick witted he was by his grumpy demeanor and arrogant presence in the offi