Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Sure.” I popped a piece in my mouth. I could get used to this not-choosing business, having Malik tell me what things were and in what order to try them. By the time the next round of food arrived, I was pleasantly warm from the bracing cocktail with notes of licorice and honey with a sour kick.
And the wine that arrived with the entrée was even better, something French and deeply complex with ancient oaky flavors that contrasted with the sharp spices of the food perfectly. I wasn’t much on wine, but I knew quality.
“This wine is amazing.” I took another sip, my smiles coming easier now. “You chose well.”
“Thanks. My dad would have a fit if he knew Mom taught me all about food and wine pairings.” Malik gestured with his fork. “He’d undoubtedly have plenty to say about fusion places like this too, but wine was one of her big post-divorce rebellions.”
“My dad had a beer sponsorship for years. I’m good at matching the beer to the brats, thanks to our stint in Green Bay.” I liked being able to make Malik laugh, the way his voice deepened and his eyes crinkled.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I grill.” He broke off a piece of bread to dip in the thick sauce. “And I won’t tell Dad about the brats either.”
“I take it you’re not that observant? Like how my folks are sorta Catholic, but really, it’s beer, football, and mass at Christmas.”
“Being Muslim is my heritage, so Mom and I keep some holidays and traditions, but otherwise, not really.” Malik’s tone was thoughtful but slightly bored, like he also got asked the same questions over and over. “It’s been years since either Mom or I have been back to Tabriz, where she’s from. I love my Maman’s shorta and other Persian foods, but I was born in Boston, so I don’t exactly fit in Tabriz, you know what I’m saying?”
“Yep. It’s not the same thing, but I’d rather get a root canal than talk about which special teams members to draft for fantasy football. I don’t fit in with the rest of the Haskins, but I like going home for holidays and stuff. I miss them when I haven’t been around in a while, but then I’m there and never know what to say.”
“I hear that. At least I have my mom. We always have stuff to talk about.”
“Must be nice to be so close.” I took another sip of the heady wine.
“Yeah, it is.” There was so much love in Malik’s eyes that it almost made me want to call my own mom, not that we ever had much to say to each other. “Of course there are things we don’t see eye to eye on, but we’re talented at avoiding certain subjects.”
“I know that talent.” Our gazes met, and clearly, I’d already had more than enough wine because it felt like a touch, like a hand on my shoulder reminding me I wasn’t alone. “Living in a super bowl-sized shadow isn’t always easy.”
“I bet.” Malik nodded like he truly did understand, which warmed me even more than the wine. “Here. Try this mushroom.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t generally hip on mushrooms but listening to Malik’s directions had served me well all evening, and once again, I was pleasantly surprised. “Wow. That’s good.”
“See? I knew you’d love that spice combo. It’s similar to the one from that pepper appetizer you liked.”
“Wow. You’re observant.”
“It pays to dine with a foodie.” Malik shrugged like other people just went around memorizing random food facts about their friends.
“It does.” I laughed and shook my head. “Your fiancée should have kept you.”
“Eh. We’re better as friends.” Malik scooped a bite of lamb and transferred it over to my plate.
“You won’t be single long. Bet on it.” I could totally see how the guy would be amazing at the whole dating scene, making his partner feel special and dreaming up great places to go.
“I wouldn’t take that bet.” Malik broke off another piece of bread. “Told you. I’m a serial monogamist. I hate the casual dating scene. I’d rather have a relationship than a hookup. And I’ll probably be even pickier next time. Find someone my mom actually likes.”
“She didn’t like your fiancée?”
“No. She thought I was crazy for keeping the long-distance thing going so long, and there were other things that made her think we were all wrong for each other. Lacey was one of those subjects Mom and I didn’t talk about in order to keep the peace.”
“Here’s to you finding someone your mom loves.” I saluted him with my wine glass, which seemed to have been magically refilled, before finally taking the piece of lamb he’d given me. I made a noise more suited to Megan swooning over a dress than food. “Oh my God, that’s good.”