![]() ![]() It was my grandmother’s recipe from Denmark, and focusing on making them perfect gave me time to think. Puffed balls of dough, fried and powdered in sugar, traditionally served for breakfast, but screw it. Monday night I came home and spent two hours making æbelskivers for dinner. Worrying about my reaction in the conference room? Chasing me down? What were we doing? I knew I’d overreacted, but honestly? So had he. To say my interaction with Max at the park had been odd would be an understatement. I looked around me as if it were possible to collect together the heart I’d nearly spilled all over the grass. Looking to all the world as if she were returning from nothing but a brisk walk through the park. I watched her walk away, head straight and shoulders back. I could only nod, for fear I’d let loose a litany of frustration over her publicity rules, particularly after she’d just climbed into my lap beneath a tree.Īfter a lingering look, she stretched and kissed my jaw once, carefully. “We probably shouldn’t walk back together.” She stood, wiping the grass from her knees and skirt. My mood shifted immediately from warm and intimate to resigned business-as-usual. ![]() After a long pause, she whispered, “I should get back.” Her face straightened and she nodded thoughtfully. But why would I want to be dishonest with you?” “Do you ever lie?” she asked, eyes searching mine. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |