“Same, same,” I reply.
He shakes his head. “At the risk of you calling me daddy again—which I hate, by the way. I’m nobody’s father?—”
But you can be my daddy,I want to say, but I don’t. Good job, impulse control, for working for once in your life.
“—certainly not yours. Crackers are not enough food for dinner. You need protein and something green. Fat too.”
“And who are you, Dr. Atkins?”
“I don’t know who that is, and no. I’m a man who has seen his fair share of crashing over diets that don’t give the body enough of what it needs.”
Well damn.
“Listen, I’m sure you mean well, but I really hate it when people tell me what my body needs.”
Suddenly, this conversation has a different undertone. Yes, the food is a trigger, and every comment that comes with it. With the wholeyou’re eating too much, you’re not eating enough, too much bread, not enough vegetables, you’re so small, you’re getting big,when in the end, it’s nobody’s business what I put in my body.
“Hey,” he whispers, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out judgmental.” His sinceretone carries a softness I wasn’t expecting. And he’s right. He did come across as judgmental.
“I just got worried, and I had extra food. Nothing more than that.” He looks around, letting out a sigh of resignation. “I can set it in your kitchen on my way out. Have a good night.”
Well, now I feel like an asshole. “My bad. Sorry I snapped at you. I forgot to eat my whole life, and it was always a pressure point with my parents. One more thing I always got in trouble about.” He blinks, acknowledging me. “Never mind. I’m done here either way, and that was nice of you. Would you sit with me while I eat this and explain what it is?”
“No need. Really.” He looks almost wounded, like a dog that’s all bark and no bite. Aww, sweet Dom might just be a very rough-around-the-edges puppy. What else are you hiding inside of that armor you’ve built around yourself, Dom?
“No, no, I insist.”
I follow him down the stairs until he sets the plate on the kitchen island. I grab two spoons and two forks from the drawer on the right. “I didn’t know which one we would need.”
“A spoon is best, but I’m not eating this. You are.”
“You can’t show up here at ten thirty pm with food and expect me to eat by myself. Plus, you need to explain what this is.” I dip my head, removing the plastic wrap and taking in the mix of spices hitting my nostrils at once.
Damn, that smells so, so good. “Yum!”
I dig my spoon in, taking some sauce and what seems like rice and peas and some sort of meat. I take a bite, and although it looks like stew, it doesn’t taste like it at all. It’s thick and rich, like nothing I’ve ever had before.
“What the heck is this?” I ask Dom, taking another bite.
“I told you, asopao.”
“But what even is that?”
“It’s like soupy rice, the best way to describe it.”
“It’s like a hug in the shape of a dish,” I add, digging back into my bowl. It’s so good. I can feel his gaze on me, but I don’t actuallycare. He can judge all he wants, but this is damn good. “It’s better than crackers, that’s for sure.”
He laughs, deeper than the last time he let his guard down. This one is like rolling thunder, deep within his soul, like he’s been keeping it hidden for a long time but he couldn’t help to finally let it out. “Yes, because crackers are a snack. This is a meal.”
“Sure.” I find a piece of chicken for sure. Is there more than one type of meat here? In actuality, I don’t care. I’m loving this.
“My mom refers to this like you did, like a hug.”
“Do you have a good relationship with her?” Boundaries went out the window when he brought me this. I feel like we need to be on a first name basis, me and his mom, after she taught this man how to make the most perfect dish to ever exist.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, you just compared me to her, so I wanted to make sure it was a good thing, you know? I can promise you, I won’t keep you awake anymore if you promise to bring me food that tastes like this next time you cook it.”