“Well, it certainly smells good in here,” he said as I took the bottle from him. “That’s a promising sign, right?”
I nodded. “Right.”
“So everything went okay?”
“Everything went fine.”
“I’m glad. I was afraid I’d come here and find you with your head in the oven or something.”
I was afraid of that, too, I thought.
We had some wine and then sat down for dinner. As much as I tried not to watch Clay and read his reaction to the food, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to be able to tell if he liked something or not. At one point during dinner, he put his fork down and said, “Stop watching me, Patrick.”
“I’m not!” I lied.
“Yes, you are and it’s making me nervous. The food is fine. I like it. No complaints, okay?”
“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“No. Believe me, if I didn’t like it, I’d tell you, okay?”
I started to relax. “Okay.”
* * * *