Page 10 of On the Menu

No. No, bless it, and bless him, and let me be something good enough to keep her. To fall in love, even by accident, and never be empty again.

“Come with me, then? To the mall?”

“Sure. And... You. Mr. No-Time-For-Fun. What do you want for Christmas?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you!” Cara laughed. “Do you celebrate it?”

His tongue took too long to unstick from shock. When he could move his mouth, he tried to hide the sheer disbelief of someone, anyone wanting to give him something out of friendship—or more. “I celebrate it. Don’t know that I need anything.”

“Well, I never see your car, or your apartment... If you invite me over, maybe I could see what needs a woman’s touch,” she said lightly.

She wants to be near me.

I don’t have apartments or cars. But I guess I could get them. “I just let my lease go. I’m moving to Pine Ridge.”

“You are?” Cara’s sparkling eyes and the childish joy in her voice made him weak in the knees.

“I’d like a place with a big, comfy leather sofa. The kind of dark brown leather that’s so old and soft that it feels like pudding.” He heard her little gasp of recognition, but he kept talking. “And some thick, cozy blankets, and a fireplace. A bookcase full of books. A mantlepiece with pictures—”

“In silver frames.”

He met her gaze. “Pictures of you.”

“And you.” Cara’s voice was barely a whisper.

“And us. In something pretty. Under a maple.”

“In the fall.”

“An October wedding.”

There was silence.

He’d fucked up. He really had, and Cara’s horrified expression confirmed it. “I’m sorry!” he blurted, strange words on a normally unapologetic tongue.

“Why would you— Don’t say things like that to me.”

The overwhelming, rotting stench of sadness hit his guts and made him wince. “Someday! Please, Cara, I wasn’t trying to rush you.”

“You... You weren’t trying to rush me? You mean, you thought about that? For real? You, me, wedding?”

Had he? In his dreams, which were her dreams. A shared dream that extended beyond waking. “I’m sure that’s what I want, when you trust me. If you ever trust me. And love me. And know I’d never hurt you,” Stray whispered.

“Oh. Oh, Stray.” Cara took his hand at the little table in the back of the coffee shop.

“I wouldn’t rush you,” he repeated, and realized it was true. He also realized, with a shock, that he was fuller than he could ever remember, and he still hadn’t let himself have even a sip of her. “Your soul touches mine. You are in every empty spot I thought couldn’t be filled. I know it’s fast—but I know it’s never been like this, Cara. Let me... Let me put it this way. If I were a starving man, and the world was full of feasts and banquets put right at my door, and they told me I could have everything... Or I could have you?” He held her hands in his, squeezing tight as he kept her gaze. “You would be the only thing on the menu, love.”

This time, it was her turn to bolt forward and kiss him cross-eyed, knocking his egg salad sandwich into his lap.

The blonde waitress and the barista, wearing a baby in a sling on her back, both applauded the scene they were making.

“Oh, no,” Cara whispered when she pulled back.

“Oh, yes,” Stray declared, shoved the sandwich off, and pulled her into his lap instead, claiming her mouth again.

“People are staring, Stray,” Cara whimpered against his invading tongue and his kneading hands on her neck.