Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Only the best ones.” Really. He should thank me for filtering out the mediocre videos. The lack of gratitude on his part is staggering.
“You don’t drink enough water,” Caleb continues.
“I don’t need water. I have caffeinated energy drinks,” I say. “Besides, my body is a lean, mean, well-oiled machine. Did I or did I not just run five-and-a-half miles this morning?”
He grins. “You were amazing.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” I beam.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Likewise, buttercup.”
He tilts his head. “Did you just call me ‘buttercup’?”
A flush crawls up my neck. “I was caught up in the moment.”
“Whatever you say.” He flashes me a crooked grin. “Sweetkins.”
“No,” I laugh and shake my head. “There is no right moment for that word.”
He chuckles and puts a bag of chia seeds in the cart. I’m praying it’s for his house and not mine, although spring is coming and I could buy a bird feeder.
“Are you still eating frosted sugar crap for breakfast?”
“Bernice starts every day with Eggo waffles, whipped cream, butter, and syrup,” I say. “And she gets sad and lonely if I don’t eat with her.”
“I ought to leave the two of you to your own devices,” he says, shaking his head. “But I’m not that evil. You know what?” he says suddenly. “I’m going to create a daily schedule and diet for you to follow.”
I stop walking. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not going to force you.” He shrugs. “But otherwise, I will insist on taking a three-month dating break.”
“You . . . You—” I point my finger at him. “You’re like the product of a one-night stand between Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini.”
“Thank you,” he says, selecting something that claims to be pasta made from chick peas. “But flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I’m very unhappy.” I stare ahead gloomily. “The Torah says you should be kind to sad orphan girls.”
“Honestly,” he says, with a wink, “you’re more of a cute orphan girl than a sad one.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome. And I’m here, Tinsel.” He gestures around the gross food store. “Not because the Torah says to be kind to orphans, but because your health is important to me. I want you around for a long time, I—” He stops. Takes a deep breath.
“I want you to prioritize your health as much as you prioritize keeping your family’s business going. And I know if your mom were here, she’d agree with me.”
Then he resumes pushing the cart, leaving me standing there feeling a bit dazed. And guilty, if I’m honest. Because he’s right. That’s exactly what my mom would want.
“Okay,” I say, catching up to him. “I’m sorry. I’ll take the whole health thing more seriously.” Here I’ve been selfishly using his high-profile status to save my career without considering his feelings and how awful dating can be, and the whole time he’s stressed out about my health.
He doesn’t reply, and we silently stare at the granola options which looks identical to bird feed. I glance at the sign hanging above the aisle just to make sure we’re still in the human section of the store.
“Why am I always messing up when it comes to you?” I say sadly.
I feel his gaze on me. “You’re not.”
“I am.” I shake my head. “I keep putting my needs ahead of yours. And the worst part is that I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”
“But you’re honest about it,” he says. “Don’t discount that. And,” he sighs, “I can understand why you want to save Blue Moon Basherts.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Maybe the smell of healthy food is making me emotional.
He takes a granola package and reads the ingredients out loud, but all I catch is the word “Tocopherols.”
I clear my throat, take it out of his hand, and return it to the shelf. “If I can’t pronounce it, I don’t eat it,” I say.
“So, if I teach you how to pronounce it, you’ll eat it?”
“No,” I say, taking the shopping cart and moving down the aisle as fast as I can. “But,” I sigh, “I agree to make some more lifestyle changes—as long as you keep up your end of the bargain. Do we have a deal?”
“Absolutely,” he says, and I note how his grin reaches his eyes.
A bag of sweet potato chips catches my attention. Finally. Something good.
“Absolutely not,” he says, snatching the bag of chips out of my hand. “I’m in charge, remember?”
“Correction—you were in charge, but you’ve been demoted.”
“What for exactly?” Amused, he watches me as I toss the bag of chips into the cart.
“For not being more balanced. You need to have a certain amount of junk food to properly function.”
“I’m sure you believe that.”
“Damn straight I do,” I reply, to which he laughs. Now that Caleb is back to his normal self, I feel better, although now my stomach is filled with dread now that I have to go on the date. What an absolute mess I’ve made.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn Caleb as he picks up a package of quinoa.
“It’s packed with protein and fiber, not to mention thiamin and riboflavin.”
“If that gets within two feet of me, I’ll pack you with so much thiamin and riboflavin that you won’t be able to walk for a week.”
He deposits the quinoa into the front of the cart, as near to me as possible and then murmurs, “Now that is the kind of date I’d get excited about.”