Page 36 of A Win-Win Situation
Leora stares out the window, lost in thought, and I struggle to find the right words to say. The need for a conversation hangs heavy in the air, but the question remains: how do I initiate it?
I've never been good at small talk, not in my youth and certainly not now. The mere thought makes my skin crawl, yet for this charade to work, we must get to know each other. Or at least agree to some fabricated story. As much as I detest the situation, we’re in it now and we’ll have to do our best for it to be believable.
At last, I break the silence. "We don’t really know each other that well."
Leora nods in agreement, and I sense her relief. "True. What would you like to know about me?"
A smile creeps onto my lips, the tension easing slightly. "Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?"
Leora lets out a musical laugh—a sound I already yearn to hear again. "I know, I know, it’s a bit cliché," I admit. "But hey, we’ve got to start somewhere."
Her smile widens. "Blue. My favorite color is blue. What about you?"
"Black."
"That’s not exactly a color, come on." She challenges.
"What’s the color of your dress, Leora?" I raise a brow.
"Black."
"There you go."
"Alright then. Other than black?"
I pause for a moment, thinking. "Red." Feeling the urge to push the boundaries, I add, "Red would look good on you."
Her surprised expression doesn’t go unnoticed as a slight pink hue sets on her face.
"Red is a bit too bold for me," she confesses timidly.
"Bold is good," I say and I truly mean it. I envision how enchanting she’d look in a vibrant red dress, but as I glance at her, there’s uncertainty etched on her face. In that instant, I decide that I’m getting her a red dress for the hotel opening.
I wait for her to ask something in return but she doesn’t, so I continue. "What do you like to do for fun?"
Leora's face lights up. "I love to read. What about you?"
"Work."
"That doesn't count as something you do for fun," she retorts and the playful laugh is back.
"Okay, fair enough." A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "I enjoy cooking."
"Really? Am I fake marrying a chef?"
"That’s a stretch," I say, and she smiles. "But I must confess, I can whip up a mean crêpe."
"I can’t wait to taste it."
My smile widens at her words.
I can’t wait to make it for you. The thought catches me off guard.What the hell is happening to me?
"My turn," she interjects, and I internally thank her for it. "Any siblings?"
"A younger brother, Liam. What about you?"
She hesitates for a moment. "Nope, only child." That brief pause indicates something, and I put it away in my mind to hopefully ask about it later.
