Hmm.
He knew he was better than the boyfriends she’d told him about the other day. This had nothing to do with size, of course. He wasn’t a white boy with a creepy fetish; he believed in equal rights; he wasn’t sixteen years older and in a position of power over her.
Okay, the bar was low, but he knew he’d treat her right.
He sat down with his plate of food and put the pitcher of maple syrup on the table. Yes, he’d actually poured the maple syrup into a small pitcher rather than putting the bottle on the table. He sure was being fancy.
“This banana is good,” Amber said. “It’s so sweet and melts in your mouth. You used butter didn’t you?”
Watching her eat his food was making him a little hard, but he didn’t think they had time to do it before work.
“Do you enjoy cooking?” he asked instead, wanting to know more about her.
“I don’t mind it on occasion, but I don’t like having to think about meals every day. It’s one of the things I hate about being an adult—you always have to figure out what to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I wish someone would do it all for me for a few weeks.”
He held himself back from volunteering.
“Actually...” She had a bite of French toast before continuing. “You know what I want to get into? Cakes. I love watching baking shows. I want to make and decorate fancy cakes. There’s a class I could take in Waterloo, but...” She shrugged.
“Why not? Is it too expensive?”
“It’s more that it seems like a silly hobby, and it’s not like I’d ever do it for a living.”
“You don’t think you’d be good enough?”
“No, I just don’t have an interest in doing it professionally. I prefer my current job to working in a kitchen.”
“There’s nothing wrong with doing things for fun. If you don’t want to take the class alone, I could do it with you.”
The words had just popped out of his mouth.
And that’s how he knew he was really falling in love. Sebastian had no interest in cakes and cake decorating. He appreciated the taste of a good cake, but he’d always thought elaborate wedding cakes and such were silly.
But it sounded fun...if it was with her.
When should he broach the issue of them being a real couple?
Amber had a sip of coffee, then spontaneously burst into giggles, as she had so many times in his arms last night.
“Imagine if our parents found us eating breakfast together,” she said.
“Fortunately, my parents are unlikely to surprise me with a visit at seven in the morning.”
“But if we did this on the weekend and were, say, having brunch at ten, it wouldn’t be out of the question. My parents usually call before they visit, but occasionally they don’t. They’d ask lots of questions and would interfere so much. My family is always jumping to conclusions and getting carried away. If my grandma saw us eating breakfast together, she’d probably be planning the wedding.” Amber shuddered.
“My parents, too.”
“No, your parents hate me.”
What?
“Of course they don’t,” he said.
“Okay, maybe that was a bit strong, but they’re not my biggest fans. I work for a theater festival—that’s not respectable enough for them. They were perturbed by my so-called wild antics in high school. I’m positive they don’t think I’m good enough for you.”
“Our parents are good friends. They’d be thrilled.”
She shook her head. “Our families can’t find out. They’d get the wrong idea—mine would be happy, yours wouldn’t—and I don’t want to tell them what’s actually going on. Your parents would definitely think I was a bad influence.”
It was clear she wouldn’t be receptive to the idea of a relationship with him.
If they were in a real relationship, they’d have to tell their families eventually. He agreed that their families would be a little annoying, but it seemed like a small price to pay for being with Amber. And in a way, it was nice that their families were already friends. There would be no uncomfortable meet-the-parents-for-the-first-time dinners—because they already knew each other’s parents.
He still didn’t believe his parents would be unhappy, as she assumed.
Well. Now was not the time to ask Amber about being a couple. He would say something eventually, but not yet.
Chapter 9
“Let’s see if I’ve got this right,” Gloria said. “There was a blackout on Wednesday night, I wasn’t responding, so you went to Sebastian’s and stayed overnight?”
“Yep.” Amber sipped her beer. “What else was I going to do until bedtime?”
“You could have hung out at Tim Hortons. Or here.” Gloria took off her black fedora and gestured to their surroundings. “You could have spent the evening staring at Justin Bieber.” She pointed at the poster on the wall.
“Or I could have had sex. It was an easy decision. What’s wrong with a booty call?”
“Nothing,” Gloria said. “But you could have returned home to sleep, yet you stayed. Just trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“What happened the next morning?” Roxanne asked.
“He made me coffee and French toast with baked bananas,” Amber said morosely, knowing how her friends would take it.
“He likes you. He definitely likes you.”
“No,” Amber protested. “He’s just a sweet guy, that’s all.”
“You think he makes French toast for every booty call?” Gloria asked.
“I don’t think Sebastian has many booty calls, to be honest.”
“Yet he made an exception for you.”
“We agreed it’s just sex.”
“Perhaps he thought that at the beginning,” Roxanne said. “But French toast? With baked bananas?”
“And a strawberry garnish.” Amber wasn’t sure why she mentioned that. It was adding fuel to the fire.
“He garnished your fucking breakfast?” Gloria spoke as though this was truly shocking information. “None of my boyfriends or girlfriends have done that for me.”
Amber’s lips twitched at her friend’s vehemence. “Well, they should. You deserve a strawberry garnish.”
“Ha!” Gloria said. “You didn’t protest and say he isn’t your boyfriend.”
Oops. She hadn’t. It didn’t mean anything, though.
“I’m drunk.
