I stare at the piece of chocolate. Aside from the gold dust, it seems perfectly ordinary. I know it's not, though. It can't be if Ethan chose it.
"What is it?" I ask curiously.
"Just try it," he urges.
I put the whole piece of chocolate in my mouth and chew, half expecting something to ooze out and flood my mouth. Instead, I get a myriad of flavors - sweet, salty, bitter, sour, all seamlessly blending into each other and melting gently over my tongue. I've never tasted anything like it.
"What's in this?" I ask Ethan again.
It can't be just the gold dust making this taste so good. In fact, I can tell there are a lot of ingredients in it, some of which almost seem familiar. I just can't seem to identify any of them.
"Pistachios from Iran, Himalayan salt, truffle oil, tea, raspberries, cane sugar and fourteen other ingredients," he answers.
My eyes grow wide as I do the math. That little thing had twenty ingredients? I knew it had more than three, but twenty?
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
And the look he gives me backs it up. Damn. Twenty ingredients in a piece of chocolate? No wonder it was a mini flavor bomb.
"Did you like it?" Ethan asks.
I nod. "It is unique."
Ethan smiles. "It reminds me of you, actually. Simple on the outside, pretty, but with lots of unexpected layers on the inside, each one equally amazing."
My eyebrows go up. Is that what he thinks of me?
He looks at the saleslady. "I'll get a big box of that. Oh, and I'll pay for the other two boxes, too."
"No," I protest in disbelief. "You can't do that."
Ethan's eyes narrow. "Why not?"
Because he's already done so much for me. "Because you're my boss and - "
"Which means you do as I say. And I say I'm paying."
"But - "
"No buts," he cuts me off as he raises a finger. "Just consider it my way of thanking you for letting me share your umbrella."
No way. I open my mouth, about to protest some more, but the look on his face tells me he isn't going to hear any of it. I let out a sigh instead. I can't believe I'm getting three boxes of luxurious chocolates just for sharing an umbrella with someone.
Speaking of umbrella...
I glance out the window.
"The rain has stopped," I observe out loud.
Ethan turns his head as well. "So it has."
I look at him. Was it just my imagination or did I hear a tinge of disappointment in his voice just now?
"So where to next?" he asks me. "Walk around some more?"
"Actually, I'm getting a bit hungry," I confess.
I only ate a sandwich, after all, and I've walked a lot since then.
"Me too," Ethan admits.
Come to think of it, I don't believe he's eaten today.
He gives me a grin. "Since we've already had dessert, what do you say we have dinner?"
~
"That was lovely," I tell Ethan after dinner as I dab my moist lips with the table napkin.
It may not have been a four-course meal at a fancy restaurant, just a hearty main course - a flavorful pork stew - and a simple dessert - the best apple strudel I've ever tasted - at a cozy little place by the side of the road, but it was just as satisfying.
"I know," Ethan agrees. "I can't believe I've never eaten here before."
"I can." I reach for my glass of wine. "Don't you usually eat in restaurants where they have at least four sets of utensils?"
He leans back in his chair. "Believe it or not, the most expensive meal I've had was a single platter of sushi which I ate with a pair of chopsticks."
"And the least expensive?" I ask curiously after taking a sip.
Ethan touches his chin as he pauses to think.
"I bet you've never had a burger and fries from a fast-food chain," I tell him. "Or eaten at your school cafeteria."
"I did eat at the school cafeteria, actually."
I lean forward. "Let me guess. Your school cafeteria had steak, lobster and caviar."
He chuckles. "I wish it did."
"So it had soggy tater tots and bland meatloaf?"
His eyebrows crease. "Not exactly."
I thought so.
"But that doesn't mean my life has been perfect."
I know. Losing your mother at twelve and having a father who expects so much from you must be hard. And I have a feeling I've just reminded him how hard.
I take a gulp of wine.
What am I doing ruining such a lovely meal?
"At least you have your brothers," I tell him in an attempt to undo